See Why in Shadow We Hide
by Utdragongirl
Summary: After spending years at the Opera Populaire as a ballet student, Christine has found her Angel of Music. After showcasing her talents for the public, her Angel shows himself to her. Once they meet, something comes over both of them. It seems that they have more than just music between them. This is an alternate universe where Raoul doesn't arrive in the story until later.
1. Chapter 1

It was midwinter when Monsieur Lefevre sold the Opera Populaire to two men; Monsieur Giles Andre and Monsieur Richard Firmin. Not that it mattered to Christine. As long as she was able to continue living at the theatre, an apparition could run it for all she cared. She had found her purpose at the Opera Populaire, and she found her Angel of Music. The theatre was her home, after all.

As the cast rehearsed for the showing of the opera Hannibal, Christine noticed the two new owners strutted around with Madame Giry as they toured their newest investment. Christine could hear a few comments, but she wasn't too concerned about what they were saying. After the tour, they would return to the offices to work, just like Monsieur Lefevre did before he retired. The former owner didn't enjoy staying in the opera house, as there were rumors of a frightening entity that wandered the opera house at his leisure.

Of course, Christine didn't put much thought into the rumors. She hadn't seen anything scarier than Carlotta's dramatic tantrums in the theatre. She did her part to learn the ballet of each opera and the chorus pieces that she needed to know, and generally kept to herself. She was close with Meg, Madame Giry's daughter, but she kept her head down most of the time. It was nice to be able to blend in instead of being recognized as the famous Swedish Violinist's only surviving daughter.

A high pitched shouting caused Christine to stop her dancing when she saw Carlotta shouting at the new managers. Apparently, Carlotta was about to go on another tantrum, and Christine decided to stretch and ignore the diva yet again. She could hear the two men groveling after her as Carlotta let them praise and thank her. Soon, she was back to normal, and had decided to sing her aria solo. Christine walked to the side of the stage and stood next to Meg as Carlotta started her song. They watched as Carlotta sang, and then be enveloped by a background that had fallen from the ceiling.

"Another accident?" one of the dancers whispered as Christine exchanged a glance with Meg. Meg shrugged as people rushed to the diva's side. It wasn't long before Carlotta stormed off in a rage, leaving the theatre. Before Christine could remark, Madame Giry had grabbed her arm and brought her before the new owners.

"Christine Daae can sing the part. She has been taught by a great teacher," Madame Giry insisted as the two men doubted her. Madame Giry turned to Christine and let go of her arm. "Go on, show them."

With a deep breath, Christine started to sing the aria that Carlotta had started to showcase a few moments earlier. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she hit every note correctly and beautifully. She had practiced it with the Angel of Music that her father had sent her, and it paid off. As she finished the aria, she turned to Madame Giry and the two managers. Andre and Firmin smiled at each other before turning to Christine.

"You are a marvel," Monsieur Andre remarked as he rushed to her side.

"A miracle, my dear," Monsieur Firmin agreed wholeheartedly as he flanked her as well. Christine smiled, elated and surprised.

"Madame Giry, please help her get ready for tonight. We'll have a full house!" Monsieur Andre declared as Madame Giry took Christine's hand.

"Right away, Monsieurs," Madame Giry answered before guiding Christine off the stage and into a dressing room.

"Are you sure about this?" Christine asked as she sat down in front of the mirror. Giry smiled and nodded.

"I've been told that you have been working very hard, and now it all pays off," Giry answered as she helped Christine out of the choir girl's costume. Christine was surprised to hear that from the Madame, but she didn't say anything about it.

Just as Madame Giry finished the last costume modification, Meg knocked on the door. Madame Giry told her to come in quickly, and Meg gasped when she saw Christine in the huge white dress for the last act in the opera.

"You look marvelous," Meg commented with a huge grin. Christine thanked her just as Madame Giry started to take off the dress.

"Meg, I need you to help me get her into the first costume. The seamstresses can handle the rest during the opera," Madame Giry informed her daughter, who did as she was asked. Christine helped when she could, but the Carlotta's costumes were vastly different from the ones she generally wore.

"That should just about do it," Meg whispered before guiding Christine to the edge of the room. Christine turned around and looked into the mirror. She thought she saw a man standing behind her but as she blinked, the figure vanished. She blinked a little more before smiling, admiring her new costume.

"Hurry, we can't be late," Madame Giry informed. She pushed the two girls out of the dressing room. Meg bade her friend good luck before running to her post. Madame Giry guided Christine to her place just as the opera began.

Panicked, Christine looked back at her mentor, who told her where to stand and what to do between songs. It seemed that Madame Giry knew every move and every interaction that the soprano role needed. Christine would have guessed that Madame Giry had been the soprano in the opera in the past.

However, with the guidance and instruction from her mentor, Christine grew her confidence and sang her parts just as she had practiced all those nights in the chapel. As her voice carried, she wondered if the Angel of Music could hear her. She wished that her Angel could be in the audience, watching her perform what he had taught her.

The aria solo was her favorite part of the whole opera, and she sang her heart out. It could be the only chance she got to sing in front of the audience at such a prestigious theatre. The energy surrounding Christine was pure magic as she looked over her captive audience. She even stole a glance toward the managers' booth, and saw that they were enchanted as well.

As the opera came to a close, Christine had never seen such a positive reaction after a performance, and she was delighted. She took her bows and was quickly ushered off stage by Madame Giry. Christine couldn't help but feel like she was being removed for a reason, but allowed to be dragged away from the limelight.

"Many of the theatre patrons will want to come congratulate you, my dear. I need to return to the stage to help reset," Madame Giry informed as she opened the dressing room door.

"Thank you," Christine smiled. Her mentor bowed her head before closing the door after Christine. Unsure of what to do in her now empty room, she sat down at the vanity, waiting for a knock at the door.

Nearly an hour passed as people of importance congratulated her on a fantastic performance and told her that they were excited to see her progress in the field. Christine thanked each of them for their kind words and wonderful flowers. Even the new managers of the Opera Populaire came in to tell her that she was their miracle singer. However, they left quickly, as they had been invited to a salon of sorts. Christine was left by herself once again as she looked into the vanity. She was grateful for the night, and she guessed that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, as the opera house didn't need more that one lead soprano.

As time passed, Christine started to hear a familiar tune. She froze and listened, hearing her Angel's voice permeate through the room. Smiling, she let the intoxicating sound rush over her and she gave into the voice.

" _Bravi, bravi. Bravissimi,_ " the voice sang.

" _Thank you, Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen. Please enter at last, Master,"_ Christine replied in tune. There was a pause, but the voice replied relieved, almost joyous.

" _Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside,"_ the voice cooed as Christine turned to look at the large mirror in the corner. There was indeed a man inside, beckoning her to come to him. Without a second thought, she stood and reached out for him. Just as she believed that she was about to touch the glass, her fingers touched nothing until the Angel's hand. The man sang beautifully as she ventured farther into the mirror.


	2. Chapter 2

While she found the voice of her Angel intoxicating, Christine took his hand willingly. She had desired to meet her teacher for years, and now she was face to face with him. She gave a smile as she noted a white mask covering half of his face. She wondered why, but his song carried her questions away. Christine followed, her hand in his, down through the secret halls of the opera house.

She was surprised when they started down a staircase, one that she had never known of. She wondered if they were even in the opera house anymore. However, her Angel seemed confident and certain that he knew where he was going, so she followed him. He led her deep down to a strange place. The room was covered with deep water, with hallways and tunnels along the wall. As they walked down, there was a small row boat with a lantern lit near the bottom of the stairs.

Her Angel helped her onto the boat before getting on himself, singing a ballad that she had not heard before. He stood, much like the gondoliers of Venice, and pushed the boat along through the water. She held the side of the boat as she listened, entranced by the melody. Even in the dimly lit area that smelt of mildew and stagnant water, she hardly cared. She trusted her Angel to take her to safety.

A portcullis along the wall rose as they neared it, showing an area lit with candles and that was furnished lavishly. Christine was awestruck, wondering if this was where her Angel spent his time during the day. He pushed the boat to the shore before disembarking. He offered his hand to her with a knowing smile, and she took it as he helped her to her feet again.

"I have brought you here to my home for one purpose," her Angel informed as he guided her up the stairs. She stared at him, too entranced to reply. "I want you to sing for me, to help me create my music."

"Your music?"

"Yes, your voice is perfect for my music. You are perfect for my music."

"My voice," Christine whispered, dazed. The Angel smiled and nodded. He guided her to the organ and had her sit next to him.

"I am composing an opera," he whispered. Christine nodded absently, leaning into him. The Angel froze and stared at her. He never thought that she would be so comfortable in his cave of a home. However, it seemed that she adapted far better than he believed.

Without another word, he reached and caressed her face as Christine gazed at him. He glanced at her lips, wondering if he dared. A moment of clarity came over him, and he stopped. She seemed to still be under his trance. Instead he kissed her forehead.

Unable to handle her staring, he stood again. Christine watched him as he removed his cape and outstretched his hand again. She took it with a smile as he guided her toward his mirrors. Christine followed him as he started singing to further enchant her. This one was slower and seemed to have a deeper affect on her.

"Let me show you something," he smiled, climbing the stairs. Christine took in her surroundings, strangely at ease with the situation. "I have something for you."

"What is it?" she laughed lightly as he lifted it up a curtain.

The small room behind was about the size of a broom closet, and it had several items seemingly on display. There were playbills from every opera ever performed at the Populaire, along with small trophies from each as well. There also was a stack of handwritten operas, ones she guessed he was talking about. His music. However, there was also a white dress on a mannequin in the middle.

"What is this?" she whispered, feeling faint.

"My muse," he answered softly. Christine looked up at him and smiled. "This helps me create my music."

"Why don't you show me your music?"

"All in good time. First, I think it would be best if you were to get some rest. You've been through a lot today. Your first performance was immaculate. An absolute wonder," the Angel informed, taking her to a couch along the wall.

"You saw me perform?"

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," he answered.

"How did you see? I thought the managers said it was sold out," Christine whispered, starting to come out of her daze a little.

"I instructed them to keep box five open for my use," the Angel informed plainly, turning toward her. "I'm anxious to see you perform as lead soprano in the future."

"But Signora Carlotta is lead soprano, and the diva of the Populaire. She's been the lead for years. Today was a once in a lifetime opportunity," Christine reminded with a sigh. She leaned on his shoulder before taking a deep breath.

"She doesn't have to be."

"Carlotta has the public, who loves her, and the managers are willing to bend over backwards for her. For now, I'm content as a chorus girl," she insisted, looking at him. "It will give me more time to study with you. I could help with your music."

"You want to help with my music?"

"Of course, you said that I would be perfect for it," Christine reminded.

The Angel laughed under his breath before he stood. He had a horrible feeling about what was happening, a guilt rose up from his stomach. He didn't deserve any of this, and he certainly didn't deserve Christine by his side.

"Do you not want my help?" she wondered.

"There is nothing that I would love more than your voice assisting me," the Angel answered as she stood as well. "I was just surprised that you were so interested in helping me."

"Why wouldn't I want to help the man who helped me with my voice?" Christine chuckled, walking up to him. "Would you rather send me away?"

"Of course not, but the men who run my theatre will wonder where you are."

"Let them wonder. I'm sure Carlotta will return in time. She might angry for a day or two, but she always comes back."

"Unfortunately," the Angel sighed before glancing at Christine. He hadn't sung for a few moments, and yet she was still there in front of him. She wasn't frightened or concerned. She seemed excited and interested, things that he hadn't expected. The outright rejection didn't come, and he wondered if it would.

"Although, I think Meg might wonder where I am," Christine murmured, turning away for a moment.

"Meg?"

"One of my colleagues. Madame Giry's daughter."

"Ah, I don't think we have to worry about her missing you," the Angel remarked, as he knew Madame Giry very well. Christine gave a puzzled look, but he smiled at her. "Everything will be fine. Madame Giry is my contact with those new buffoons they call managers."

"Oh," Christine answered, surprised to hear that. She guessed that made the most sense, as Madame Giry was the one that knew all the ins and outs of the theatre. It would also explain how she knew that she was being taught by a great teacher.

"While I admire your enthusiasm, you must be tired. I think it would be best for you to rest," the Angel informed. Christine straightened, realizing that she was imposing on him.

"If it would be easier, I could go back to the dormitories for the night and come back in the morning," she answered as the Angel raised an uncovered eyebrow.

"If you would prefer," he whispered. There was a brief silence before Christine took a deep breath.

"I would prefer to stay, but I don't want to impose," she answered calmly. "It would be easier if I stayed."

"Then stay."

The Angel smiled again, giving Christine some relief. He seemed to actually want her there, despite the short notice. Of course, he did guide her down there, but who knew how long he had expected to entertain her.

"I'll sleep on the couch then," she smiled.

"There's no need for that. I can sleep on the sofa," the Angel insisted. "Please, I insist. If you want to help me, you'll need a good night's rest. You'll be singing a lot tomorrow."

"Only for tonight," she informed as he dipped his head in a single nod. Christine nodded as she stood still for a moment.

"I will show you to your room," the Angel chuckled, grabbing her hand again. Christine nodded, a little more on edge than before.


	3. Chapter 3

After a long restful night, Christine woke to find herself still in the bed of her Angel. The large swan bed was much roomier than she had needed, but she was grateful to get a full night's sleep. She sat up and swung her legs to the side facing the door. Wrapping a small blanket around her shoulders as a makeshift shawl, Christine opened the door to the Angel's lair, but there was no sign on her Angel.

Tugging the blanket around her shoulders, she looked around. It was colder than she remembered, and darker. While some of the events of the night prior were a little hazy, Christine knew that the Angel shouldn't have gone far. She was supposed to help his music, and he needed her voice. As she turned to the couch, there was a small piece of paper on it. Puzzled, she walked over to it and picked it up.

It was indeed a note left by her Angel of Music. He informed her that he had to run an errand before they started on the music. He also wrote that he wouldn't be long and that he would return shortly after she woke up. However, not knowing what time he left made it hard to assume when he would be back.

Christine took a deep breath as she set the note back down on the couch. She had no idea what to do. Was she supposed to wait in the bedroom? On the couch? Was she supposed to be warming up her vocal cords?

After standing for a few minutes, she sat down on the couch and sighed. Christine sighed as distant water drops plopped into the lake surrounding her. It was the only noise she could hear, and it started to drive her mad. Again she stood and looked around. It was only then she realized that she didn't have a change of clothes or an access to a bath.

Christine bit her bottom lip in thought, unsure of what to do. She had already refused to return to the Populaire so soon, and she wanted to keep it that way. She was afraid that someone would discover her Angel, who lived within the walls of the opera house. If Madame Giry had a reason to keep him a secret, then Christine did too.

Just as she decided to go back to the bedroom to regroup, she could hear the boat moving through the water. As Christine looked up, she saw her Angel in his black cape and a black mask on. He seemed surprised to find her still there, waiting for him. She smiled and gave a small wave as he stepped onto dry land again.

"Good morning," she greeted as he took a step towards her.

"You're still here," he remarked. His eyes were full of surprise and wonder, and she smiled.

"I said I would be," she reminded, walking toward him. Christine wondered how she was going to bring up the fact that she lacked clothes and toiletries of any kind. The Angel opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and held out a knapsack. Christine raised an eyebrow as she took it.

"I asked Madame Giry to gather some of your things," he informed with a cough. "I had to give messages addressed to the managers for her to deliver."

"Thank you," Christine replied, surprised that he had thought of her needs before she did. The Angel nodded before walking away, a little embarrassed. Christine returned to his room to change into something else. She put on a simple dress and quickly reemerged to find her Angel pacing by the organ.

"Good," he mentioned as she came back before he walked away. She stared at him, unsure about what he meant. Although, he didn't care to elaborate either. Instead, he went to his desk and pulled out a stack of papers before he started writing.

Christine watched him for a few minutes before walking up to his chair. She stood patiently behind him as he wrote in a frantic manner. He turned toward her, surprised that she was so close.

"Is that the music?" she wondered.

"No, these are my notes. My music is over here," he informed. Christine noticed that he seemed a little overwhelmed, and she wondered why that would be. Her Angel walked by the organ before pulling out a leather book and handed it to her. She glanced at the cover.

" _Don Juan_?" She read before glancing up at him.

"It's an opera that I've been working on for some time. I think that it's close to being performed, but I need your voice to finish it," he answered calmly. "I need my muse."

"Anything for my Angel," she smiled as she received her part from him. "Am I Aminta?"

"Aminta is the role I made for you," he informed quietly, turning away from her. Christine smiled, surprised that her Angel had given her so much thought. He walked to the organ and placed the score in front of him. Christine went over and stood beside him, holding the music out in front of her, ready to begin.

* * *

Firmin grabbed a paper off the street on the way to the Opera Populaire, his newest business venture. _Mystery of Soprano's Flight_. He huffed as he read the article, which told of the treatment of Carlotta and the disappearance of Christine. He thought it was entertaining at first, but when he read the phrase foul play suspected, he frowned.

As he walked up to the front doors, there was an envelope attached to the right door. It was addressed to him with a red wax skull sealing it closed. Confused, he ripped it off the door and earnestly opened it. It looked vaguely similar to the one that Madame Giry had given him the day before. The one that demanded twenty thousand francs.

As if he could tell what the letter said, it told him that OG was still waiting on his salary. Firmin cursed under his breath before opening the door, tucking the paper and the letter under his arm. He hummed a small tune as he climbed the steps, finding Monsieur Andre on the second floor.

"This is damnable," Andre cursed as Firmin came up beside him. Andre, too, had read the papers.

"Don't shout, it's just publicity. Free publicity," Firmin reminded. Andre sighed.

"But we don't have a cast!" Andre reminded, shaking an envelope in his hand. The wax seal was unmistakable.

"You have one, too," Firmin groaned. Andre straightened himself and sighed.

" _Dear Andre, what a charming gala. Christine was sublime. We were hardly upset when Carlotta left. That diva is a disaster, why would you cast when she's past her prime?_ " Andre read before lowering the letter. With a deep breath, Firmin lifted his letter.

" _Dear Firmin, just a reminder, my salary has not been paid. No one likes a debtor, so it's better if my orders are obeyed_ ," Firmin informed before looking at his partner.

"Who would have the nerve to send this?" Andrea complained.

"Someone with a juvenile brain," Firmin replied as he looked at the letters. "They're both signed _OG_."

"Opera Ghost," Andre answered, rubbing his head.

"What is this!?" a female voice in a deep Italian accent screeched as doors swung open. "Did you two write this?"

"Write what?" Andre and Firmin answered in unison. Carlotta produced an identical letter to theirs and read it.

" _You're days at the Opera Populaire are numbered, for when Miss Daae returns, she will be the dawn of a new age_ ," Carlotta spat before giving the note to Firmin.

"I didn't write this," Andre informed as Firmin replied the same.

"Then who did, eh?" Carlotta asked, looking at her managers.

"Opera Ghost," Firmin whispered, shaking his head. Carlotta started shouting in Italian as Andre turned around in defeat. "Far too many notes for my taste."

"You don't say," Andre groaned. As if an angel sent her, Madame Giry entered with her daughter Meg, calming the room. Carlotta looked at her, as she also had a note with the red wax seal.

"I have a note," Madame Giry informed, gathering their attention.

"Oh god, another one?" Firmin grumbled as he walked up to her. Madame Giry straightened as she gave him the note. Meg looked around, wondering what's going on. " _Gentlemen, I have sent you several notes detailing how my theater should be run. Miss Christine Daae has been taken under my wing, to train her and replace Carlotta. However, as you have ignored my instructions, I shall give you one last chance. Il Muto will be the last performance Carlotta will lead. Miss Daae will take the role of Diva from there. If you do not heed my warnings there will be consequences._ "

The room fell silent for a moment before the diva Carlotta began her shouting and waved her arms about. Andre took a deep breath as Meg and Madame Giry bowed out. Firmin groaned as he went to comfort his leading singer.


	4. Chapter 4

After pleading and praising, Carlotta agreed to sing at the lead role of Il Muto, much to the relief of her managers. However, the notes weighed heavy on their minds. They had no idea who had sent them, or if it was a clever ploy by Madame Giry. Although, there wasn't a clear motive of why she would deceive them in this manner.

In the days following Il Muto's opening night, Firmin was the only one that received any notes. Andre insisted they were just a prank played by someone in the opera house, as they just reminded them of the Phantom's salary. As each letter grew more aggressive, Firmin wondered if they should pay the sum. With the flourishing opera house, it was a small sum of money each month. However, that also meant that he would have to admit defeat.

Instead, Firmin tucked the unopened envelopes in his desk and ignored the increasing numbers of them. Il Muto was about to finish its last showing at the end of the week, which meant that the chorus girl was supposed to return and replace Carlotta. Andre and Firmin both agreed that it was a ridiculous proposition and that Carlotta would continue being the lead soprano, regardless of what this ghost wanted. They would prepare whatever measures they needed to fend off this apparition.

"What's the next opera?" Firmin questioned when Andre walked into the office. Andre looked up from his ledger and glanced at the calendar.

" _I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone_ ," Andre answered as he sat down. Firmin nodded, turning away. "Are you thinking about the Phantom and that chorus girl?"

"Are you not?" Firmin replied quietly. Andre set the book down on the desk and took a deep breath.

"Of course not, we have not heard from him in weeks. I think we're safe to assume that he isn't our problem anymore," Andre answered. "And why would we listen to a a man who demands money constantly? I'm not even sure if Christine is still in Paris. I wouldn't be surprised if she ran off with someone."

"I see," Firmin whispered as he returned to his own work. He glanced at the drawer full of warnings, and he sighed inwardly. He was worried about the repercussions their ignorance would render, but decided that Andre was correct. The Phantom was a hoax, and that Christine had run off after her big break.

"Did you see what arrived today?" Andre asked, changing the subject. Firmin shook his head. "We have a new patron."

"A new patron? Who?"

"The Vicomte de Changy, and he has expressed interest in seeing the opening of _I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone_."

"That is fantastic news! It's about time this opera house get some recognition for something other than a scandal," Firmin remarked. Finally, some good news. Their luck was changing.

"Agreed."

"Have you answered him? I think he should tour the opera house before opening night. Even if he came during rehearsal."

"Of course I answered him. I wrote him back immediately after I received the letter," Andre smiled. "We should hear back tomorrow about his arrival."

"Fantastic," Firmin replied firmly before both returned to their work before checking on their theatre.

* * *

It had been about two weeks since her Angel had taken her down to his home. Christine spent most of her time preparing for his opera, _Don Juan_. She noticed that her Angel kept to himself most of the time, generally working on his opera. She would have thought that they would grow closer. Maybe have a conversation about anything. However, he seemed to be surprised that she was still there whenever he returned, but he began to smile more and seemed to be excited to see her.

With her time to herself, she was able to master the part of Aminta with the help of the Angel. She sat on the couch as she took a deep breath. He had gone to talk with Madame Giry again, taking some letters with him. Christine wondered what he could be doing with those notes, but couldn't figure what they could be for. She looked over her part again, realizing that she knew it by heart and wasn't sure if she even would need the physical music for reference. She wondered if she would be able to return to the opera house soon. Meg was probably worried, and Christine hated the idea that she worried her friend.

She leaned back in her seat just as the portcullis rose again, announcing the arrival of her Angel. She sat up and smiled at him. He gave a smile back, his eyes shining with awe behind his mask. He pushed the boat to the shore and climbed the steps, discarding his cape as he walked up the stairs.

"Welcome back," Christine smiled as her Angel knelt in front of her. It was gesture that she was unfamiliar with, and she stared at him with a small grin.

"I bring news," he informed. He looked worried, but Christine didn't think he was bearing bad news. "The opera house is preparing their next opera, _I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone_. I have informed the new owners that I have been training your voice, and that you would be perfect for the lead role."

"That's wonderful, I had no idea that you were able to do that," Christine smiled. Her Angel's face faltered as he looked away. "Angel, what is it?"

"You have done wonderfully these last few days. I think _Don Juan_ should be finished by the time _I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone_ has run its course. I would be honored if you would accept the lead for that as well," he began.

"Of course," Christine whispered, elated by his offer. He nodded.

"Although, I do believe that it would be best if you went back to the opera house," he finished, unable to meet her gaze. Christine bit her lip in confusion. She thought that she would be ready to return, but she felt so comfortable being next to him.

"Would I be able to return here?" Christine requested. Her Angel froze at her request before turning toward her.

"Why would you want to return here?" he whispered. She laughed under her breath.

"You have encouraged me to sing. Ballet is fine, but I dream of singing in front of an audience. In front of you. You have given me the chance to change my life in this place. How could I not want to return?"

"You think too highly of me," he murmured, too softly for her to hear as he looked down.

"Angel?" she asked, hearing a whisper.

"Call me Erik," he replied suddenly. At first he had enjoyed her vision of him as something ethereal, something beautiful. However as time passed, it weighed on his conscience. He wasn't heavenly, he was hellish. Erik looked up at her to see a playful grin on her face.

"Of course, Erik," she answered. She felt silly for not asking what his real name was in the first place. Calling a grown man Angel was ridiculous, and she should have seen it.

Erik stared at her expression, confused and delighted by it. She had accepted him so easily for something that he had done selfishly. He needed her song, and she thanked him for it. He wondered if he would be able to return her to Madame Giry. It was his plan, after all, but was it his plan still? He gave a small smile.

"Gather your things. I will take you back to your dormitory," he informed. Christine's smile fell slightly before nodding.

"Of course," she whispered as she stood and walked away. Erik moved to the side as he watched her leave. He wondered if he still wanted this. It was to let his music soar, but having her by his side was more than enough. He came to his feet before walking to his organ, playing a more somber tune than he wanted, but it seemed that the music needed to match the mood.

Christine sat on the edge of the swan bed. Erik had insisted for her to sleep there every night while he took the couch. She gathered her knapsack and grabbed her sheet music. She held it in her hands close to her chest, wondering if she would ever see her Angel again. With a deep breath, she left the room and found Erik playing a new composition. It was something that she hadn't heard before, and she wondered how long he had been working on it. He looked startled when he saw her come back in the room.

"Are you ready?" he asked, almost reluctantly. Christine gave a slight nod as he stood from the piano bench. Erik stood in front of her, and he touched her cheek. She kept her gaze on him, unsure what the gesture meant. Her breath caught in her chest, and she held her breath. She wasn't sure how long the stood there, but she found herself lost in his eyes when her breath returned. He removed his hand and turned away, walking down the steps. She followed him and sat down in the front of the gondola. He pushed away from the bank and started to sail toward the opera house entrance.

"Will I ever see you again after this?" Christine whispered. Silence ate at her before Erik spoke.

"If you would like."

"When?" Another silence fell. "I don't think I can navigate the tunnels by myself."

"I'll be in box five during your performance. I will see you after you bow out," Erik replied softly. Christine could hear an uncertainty in his voice, but she ignored it.

As he brought the boat around the corner, Christine could see Madame Giry waiting for them with a candelabra. Madame Giry was relieved to see her pupil again in good spirits. Erik brought the boat to the bank's edge and helped Christine to solid ground. Christine looked at him, and Erik looked sullen. She gripped his hand reassuringly before letting it drop to his side. Madame Giry led the girl away up the stairs. Christine looked over her shoulder to see her Angel watch her leave before returning to his home.


	5. Chapter 5

Madame Giry guided Christine back to the main floor of the Opera Populaire, where the two managers were talking about a new guest. Christine had been too distracted by the thoughts of Erik to catch the name of the guest. However, she was surprised when Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre ran up to her. Madame Giry stepped between the two managers and Christine. Unlike Andre, Firmin looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Where has she been?" Andre asked, more curious than upset.

"She has been studying with a private tutor," Madame Giry answered.

"A private tutor?" Firmin repeated.

"Yes," Madame Giry informed. Christine glanced between the two men and the woman, unsure of what to say.

"A voice tutor?" Andre clarified. Madame Giry shot him a look before nodding. Andre and Firmin took a deep breath and nodded. "Miss Daae, why don't you go up to your dormitory. I would like a word with Madame Giry."

"Of course, monsieurs," Christine answered, starting toward the second floor.

Once Christine was out of sight, Madame Giry turned to her managers, less than happy to be singled out in such a way. Andre straightened his shirt until he knew that the chorus girl wouldn't hear them.

"Are you the author behind those notes?" Andre asked quietly. "Did you arrange Miss Daae with a private tutor?"

"No, Monsieur. The tutor was sent by her father shortly before his death. It took some time for the tutor to find her here," Madame Giry answered, keeping her voice level. She was not in the habit of lying, but she had to do this for the Phantom. Andre looked less than pleased. "And I have not been writing the notes."

"Are you suggesting that there is a Phantom in this building? Who is he?" Andre asked as Madame Giry shrugged noncommittally. "Well, regardless, Carlotta will remain as our leading soprano. We can find a smaller role for Miss Daae, if her voice has improved."

"She did do well during Hannibal," Firmin reminded. Andre nodded before sighing. "I think that a small role would be good for her to showcase what she's learned."

"Of course, Monsieurs," Madame Giry replied, knowing there wasn't she could do about casting. However, she also knew that the Phantom would not approve of this. The two managers walked off while Madame Giry waited until they left. She exhaled as her daughter walked up to her.

"Has Christine returned?" Meg asked as Madame Giry nodded.

"She has journeyed long, so she'll need some rest. Why don't you get to rehearsal and I will fetch Christine," Madame Giry offered. Meg reluctantly nodded before taking her leave. Her mother watched her disappear behind a door before walking up the stairs as well. Of course, she would have to convene with the Phantom about the managers' ignorance.

Christine returned to her dormitory and set the knapsack on the bed, realizing that her room looked bare and boring compared of Erik's cove. She began to unpack her clothes, placing them on top of her small vanity. She placed the sheet music on the vanity as well, staring at it. With a sigh, she tucked it inside of a drawer. She didn't need the music anymore, but she was glad that she had something to remember her Angel by. Soon, Madame Giry entered again, startling Christine.

"Hello," Christine greeted before Madame Giry enveloped her in her arms. Christine hugged her back, realizing that she had missed the opera house and its inhabitants.

"I am glad you're back," Madame Giry informed, tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I've just missed you dearly," she replied, patting the younger woman's cheek. "If you are able to, I think that the new managers have news for you."

"That seems to be today's theme," Christine jested. Madame Giry only nodded before she took her leave. She lingered in the doorway with a kind smile before leaving again. Christine closed the door after a moment and changed into something fresher.

Christine rushed down the stairs to find the managers, wondering what they could have to say. She stopped by their small offices before finally finding them backstage of the opera house. Firmin spotted her first, and called out to her to come closer.

"My dear, how are you?" Firmin asked as Andre came up beside him.

"I'm glad to be back," she answered.

"It has come to our attention that you were promised a leading role in I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone," Andre informed. Christine nodded slowly, remembering that Erik had said something similar to that. "We think that is moving rather fast, so we would like to offer you a supporting role to help showcase your new skills."

"Monsieurs, I am honored to even play a minor role," Christine answered with a gracious smile. She didn't think that she would get the lead role, but she was happy playing something other than a ballet dancer and chorus singer. Firmin exhaled in relief at her answer as Andre clapped his hands.

"Wonderful! See Madame Giry for your costume and such. Opening night is tomorrow," Andre informed before attending to another matter. Firmin nodded and followed his partner. Christine stood for a moment, realizing that she didn't know which role she was taking, and didn't have the music. She rushed back to Madame Giry, hoping that she was in the ballet dance room.

* * *

Andre waited at the front of the Opera Populaire to greet their newest patron, the Vicomte of Changy, on opening day of I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone. He wanted to make a good impression, and convince the vicomte that his investment was well placed. Soon, a carriage arrived and a young man stepped out. Andre was surprised by the age of the man, but he stepped forward.

"Welcome to the Opera Populaire. My name is Giles Andre, manager of the opera house," Andre introduced, shaking the young man's hand.

"Thank you, Monsieur. I am Vicomte Raoul de Changy," the young man informed as he straightened. "I am excited that you were so quick to reply. My family has always supported the arts, so it is an honor to be here."

"The honor is mine. Please, let me give you a tour," Andre insisted, gesturing toward the large opera house. Raoul followed the manager inside and marveled at the architecture and style of the building.

Andre showed him through the backstage, introducing him to Firmin, Monsieur Reyer the conductor, and to Madame Giry. While the ballet rehearsed, Carlotta stepped forward with her arm outstretched toward Raoul. The vicomte kissed her hand, as she wanted, and she thanked him for his support in the opera.

"Miss Carlotta, our lead soprano at the Opera Populaire. She'll be playing the lead in tonight's I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone," Andre introduced.

"It's a pleasure," Raoul informed with a slight bow. "I am excited to see the production."

"Monsieur," Andre called, dragging the vicomte away from the diva. Raoul gave his goodbye before following the manager through the rest of the opera house.

"This is a magnificent place," Raoul mentioned as Andre nodded.

"Yes, it is a modern marvel," Andre smiled, turning toward the vicomte. He glanced at the clock on the wall before clearing his throat. "You are welcome to wander the theatre if you wish. I have to talk to Monsieur Firmin about something before we open the doors to the public."

"Of course. Please, don't let me keep you," Raoul smiled. Andre thanked him before taking his leave. Raoul watched him disappear back into the main hall.

He climbed the stairs, wondering what was beyond the first floor. As he reached the floor, he heard a beautiful aria wafting through the halls. Knowing Carlotta was still on stage, he wondered who had such a wonderful voice. He walked through the hallways, checking in empty rooms and closets. However, he ended bumping into Madame Giry, who was startled to see him wandering around by himself.

"Monsieur," she greeted, composing herself. "What are you doing wandering the theatre on your own?"

"Monsieur Andre said that I was welcome to wander at my leisure," Raoul replied, hearing the voice again. "Who's voice is that?"

"One our chorus girls, practicing tonight. You will see her on stage," Madame Giry informed. "I would like to inform you that these are our ballet dormitories. I'm not sure how well the girls will take it if you are wandering around over here."

"Ah, yes, of course," Raoul answered, understanding her tone. He let himself be guided back into the hallway by the stern woman. As the song filled the hall again, he could hear something familiar in it, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe he could recognize the voice during the opera.


	6. Chapter 6

Christine waited in one of the smaller dressing rooms by the stage. She stared in the mirror of the vanity, hardly recognizing herself. Madame Giry had put on so much makeup, Christine could hardly recognize herself. Apparently she was playing the part of the milk maid, which was a larger part. Carlotta would play the part of the wife of the farmer, who finds the peacock, played by Piangi. Christine had been practicing the songs, and while they were beautiful, she was confused why the managers had chosen this one. This had a confusing plot with seemingly random characters.

With a sigh, she thought of her role in Don Juan, the role of Aminta. The role that her Angel had given with her, the one he designed for her. It was better than playing the ridiculous milk maid. At least she had the job of being the comedy relief, as she enjoyed making people smile and laugh. She pulled out the I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone music again and began to practice. There was one part that she almost had. It was close enough that most wouldn't notice, but if her Angel was going to be there, then it was worth it to get it right.

She closed her eyes and recited her songs, thinking of Erik watched from box five. From the balcony, just to watch her. Christine stopped as a smile spread across her face. Finally, she had the opportunity to perform in front of the man who trained her voice. She decided that this would be the best performance she gave thus far, even better than when she sang in Hannibal.

Soon a knock came at the door, startling Christine. She opened the door to find Madame Giry again. It was time to go on and perform. They had already started seating, and Christine needed to be on stage. She went with Madame Giry, walking passed the ballet dancers and stood next to Carlotta. Christine admired Carlotta, as she had a commanding and assertive presence, even if she screeched all the time. However, Carlotta didn't seem to take note that she was there. She hardly talked to Christine during rehearsal, even though their characters constantly interacted with one another.

The opera continued, and went without any mistakes or accidents. Christine let her voice soar over the audience, hoping that Erik could hear her clearly. Once in a while, she would glance towards box five, and she believed that she could make out a figure. Her heart soared when she saw the shadow in the balcony, and her voice became clearer and more precise each time. Carlotta noted her clarity, which prompted her to strengthen her voice. Even Andre and Firmin were impressed with their two sopranos, and could practically feel their pockets grow. The queues would go down the street for weeks.

After the opera, Christine bowed out with the cast and ran straight back to her dressing room. Erik said that he would see her after she bowed out. She assumed that he would see her after the production, and where else than the dressing room where she first saw him.

As Christine waited, her managers entered to congratulate her and that they would like for her to fill roles as she did today in the future. Hiding her disappointment in their arrival, she graciously accepted and agreed. More solo roles would be wonderful, as she could continue showing off her voice to her Angel. To her relief, the managers left quickly, probably to celebrate with their patrons and more wealthy guests. She waited for a while longer before she saw a flicker movement in the mirror. However, there was also a knock at the door, which drew her attention. Christine remained quiet until there was a second knock and someone said her name. Glancing at the mirror, she walked to the door and opened it. She gasped as she saw a familiar face.

"Hello, Little Lotte," Raoul whispered as he handed her a bouquet of flowers. Christine gaped as she accepted the flowers in shock.

"Raoul," she breathed as he closed the door behind him after entering the room. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited by Monsieur Andre to the gala, and I am so glad he did," he answered. Christine refrained from looking at the mirror, realizing that she needed to get rid of Raoul if she was going to see Erik. "It's been so long."

"It has," she smiled, looking down at the flowers. "Thank you."

"You sang like an angel," he mentioned as Christine smiled. Even though this wasn't the attention she was hoping for, a praise from Raoul was nothing to scoff at. Her childhood friend had seen her sing, and she was glad for it. "Let's go to supper."

"No, I can't. My tutor, he's very strict," Christine informed, gripping the flowers. Raoul laughed.

"I won't keep you late. Come, you must change. I'll get my carriage," Raoul informed before he left, ignoring Christine's protests. As the door closed, Christine sighed and placed the bouquet on the table. She wandered over to the mirror again and touched the glass, closing her eyes.

"If you're there, let me see you," Christine whispered. She pulled her hand away from the glass, keeping her eyes closed. As they opened again, Erik stood before her in the mirror, his lips thin in concern. "Erik!"

"Christine," he replied softly, a smile hinting at the corner of his lips. "You did wonderful. Not the role I thought I provided, but I will see that your voice gets the recognition it deserves in the future."

"Thank you. It felt lovely to sing on the stage, and it was comforting to know that you were in the audience," Christine answered, a smile sprawling across her face. Erik looked surprised, but smiled as well.

"Are you going to go with that man to dinner?" Erik asked, a sense of urgency and almost panic in his voice. Christine's face fell slightly.

"I don't know. I was hoping to see you for longer than a moment," Christine answered. Erik smirked as he outstretched his hand. Christine grabbed it as he sang gently.

"Come with me, Angel of Music," Erik serenaded as Christine came to her feet. His song filled her head, and she grinned at him, letting him guide her through the mirror again. She could hear the handle jiggle, as it seemed the door locked behind Raoul as he left.

"Who's that in there?!" Raoul cried out as Christine disappeared into the mirror. "Christine!?"

Erik sang with her all the way down back to his home, Christine's hand in his. He grabbed one of the candelabras from the hallway, glancing behind him to see Christine. Her voice harmonized with his perfectly, and he felt a spark of pride grow in his chest. He had taught her, and she had learned so well. With a hidden grin, he led her once again back down to the depths of his home.

Christine had never felt so free in her life, singing with her Angel as they ran away from the strict rules of the opera house. She felt bad for leaving Raoul in such a manner, but she made up her mind. She could catch up with Raoul at a different time.

Erik helped Christine back onto the gondola with a sweet song and pushed through the water. Christine watched the tunnels more closely, wondering if she would be able to navigate them on her own in the future. Soon, a familiar cove appeared, and she could help but smile. While it was damp and dark, she found it comforting. The boat met the shore at the base of the steps, and Erik helped her back to land. She saw his eyes shine through the mask, and her worries seemed to melt away.

"You really did wonderfully," he whispered. Christine smiled broadly, a reaction he hadn't anticipated. He had planned to tell her that he wasn't able to sit where he told her he would be. The opera's new patron had taken his seat, and he had to watch from the rafters. He had already sent another note to Madame giry explaining his distaste to the managers about this, so he decided not to dwell.

"Thank you," Christine replied as she sat down on the familiar couch near the organ. "It was magical to be there."

"No doubt of it," Erik answered. "Are you sure you didn't want to go with the new patron?"

"He's the new patron?" Christine asked, surprised. Slowly, Erik nodded, afraid that she would change her mind. "What a strange coincidence... but no. If he's the new patron, he'll be around. We can talk later."

"Of course," he whispered, feeling strange about her answer. There was a sense of familiarity in her voice that made him uneasy.

"Erik," Christine began, sending a chill up his back. He hadn't expected her to use his name so casually. "I was wondering if we could have another lesson?"

"I would be honored," he nodded before sitting at the organ. Christine exhaled, excited to show how well she knew Aminta's part.


	7. Chapter 7

As the lesson continued, Christine could feel her eyelids start to fall. She was starting to feel exhausted from everything. Not to mention that it was rather late at the time. Erik noticed, but did not hold it against her. He knew that she was working very hard, and that the hard work was paying off. He finished the tune they were working on before closing the music. Christine snapped awake, and he had to suppress a laugh.

"We can keep going," she informed. While she was tired, she did not want to leave just yet. Erik shook his head and smirked.

"No, you should get some rest so we can continue tomorrow," Erik replied. Christine sighed, but agreed. She could hardly keep her eyes open, and she did think that sleep sounded nice. I have stood and helped her to her feet. She hooked her arm in his and leaned on him. "I'll help you back to your dormitory."

"Thank you," she whispered as they walked to the boat again. While she was sad that she had to leave her Angel, she was happy that he was going to take her on his own instead of Madame Giry. Erik grinned in reply as he helped her into her seat. As they pushed off, Christine steadied herself, feeling sleep creeping up on her. Erik saw her tense, but he thought nothing of it. He had wondered if she was uncomfortable with the boat and he had not noticed before. He have pushed through the water, sailing towards the stairs again.

As they continued, Erik sang a small tune, hoping to help her relax. However, it worked too well. She swayed with his tune, and they turned the corner, she swayed too far to the side and toppled into the water. The splash echoed through the tunnels, startling him.

"Christine!" Erik shouted in surprise just after she made contact with the water. He threw the pole and his cape into the boat before diving in after her. He had no idea what was in the water, or if she would get sick, so he had to get her out quickly.

Christine did not know why she was in the water, or how she got there. She opened her eyes as she saw the boat to her side, but did not react soon enough to reach for it. Then there was a dark figure that swam towards her, startling her. However, the figure grabbed her and brought her to the surface again. Gasping, she climbed back into the boat. Erik held the side of the boat, breathing deeply as Christine coughed.

"Are you alright?" Erik whispered earnestly. Christine nodded as she looked over to him. He looked relieved as he steadied himself against the boat. "That's good."

"Yes," Christine agreed with a light laugh. She sat on the floor of the boat as she caught her breath. "Thank you."

"Of course, my dear," Erik replied as he climbed back into the boat. "Alright, shall we continue?"

"Yes, I think that would be good," Christine replied, feeling more awake from the cold water. Erik nodded, standing. He was careful not to rock the boat as he placed his cape over her. She thanked him again before he picked up the pole.

Christine stayed on the floor of the boat as her exhaustion came across her again. She laid her head against the wall of the boat and closed her eyes, promising herself that she would open her eyes in a few moments. Erik sighed quietly as he saw her fall asleep. He hadn't intended to keep her for so long, but time had gotten away from them. He was sure that she would forget him after her first performance, but it was the opposite. It seemed to have brought them closer together.

Erik pushed the boat to the edge by the stairs leading to the opera house and stepped off the boat. He shook Christine's shoulder, but she didn't stir. He shook his head with a smirk before picking her up, one arm under her knees and the other holding her torso, the cape still draped over her. Her head fell on his shoulder, and he took a deep breath.

Navigating the empty hallways of the opera house, Erik carried Christine to her dormitory. He saw Madame Giry open her door across the hall, but she just watched him. She looked stern, as if warning him to be careful with the girl, before closing her door again. He knew that she cared for Christine as well, so he did his best to keep quiet and work quickly.

However, it wasn't until he got into the dormitory that he had no idea which bed or room was hers. While he watched over her at rehearsal, he made a point to not watch her while she was in her bed. He cursed in his head, careful not to make a noise, before leaving the dormitory. Originally, he would have made sure she made it to the opera house, but didn't imagine that he would have to carry her around. Making a rash decision, he went back to the main floor, finding the dressing room that she had used the night before. At least he could drop her off somewhere familiar and wouldn't spark too many questions for her.

As if fate were working against him, they approached the dressing room and the door was ajar. Erik peaked inside and found a rather alarmed vicomte. It seemed that he hadn't left during the night, and it seemed that he was determined to stay up all night. Erik hid in the shadows, wondering what he should do. Christine couldn't go back to his cove, as she had rehearsal and performances to attend. He couldn't have her be late after how hard she had been working.

Careful not to alert the new patron, Erik carried Christine away from the dressing room. Then with a stroke of genius, he walked down the hallway to another dressing room. While it wouldn't be very familiar to her, it would be close enough. They wouldn't ask too many questions if she were found there by herself. He gently opened the door and entered the small room. Slowly, he placed Christine on the couch by the wall and silently closed the door behind them. With a long sigh, he turned to see her again, who started to stir again.

"Christine," he whispered as her eyes opened slightly.

"Erik? Where am I?"

"Back in the opera house, in a dressing room. I didn't know where you needed to go," he answered, a little sheepishly. Christine nodded, her eyes fluttering a little. Erik brushed a bit of hair from her face before pulling his hand away.

"I'm sorry," Christine mumbled with a small smile. "I didn't mean to make you carry me around."

"No need to apologize," Erik answered gently. He stood as he decided to take his leave. However, he was stopped as something caught his shirt. When he turned around, he was surprised to see Christine's hand keeping him from leaving.

"Do you have to go?" she wondered. He waited, but she didn't say anything to contradict her words. Wondering if it was because she was exhausted or she was possibly dreaming, he walked back to her side and knelt next to her.

"I suppose I could stay a little longer," he replied with a smile. A grin spread across Christine's face as she nodded.

"Would you sing for me? Just until I fall asleep?" Christine asked, reaching for his hand. He grabbed hers as he began to sing a soft tune, similar to a lullaby. It hardly took more than a few lines before she fell asleep, her hand falling limp against his. Erik replaced his cape with a blanket that was draped on the sofa.

As he pulled the cape back on, Erik turned to leave and found that the door had been opened. Raoul stood in the doorway, casting a faint light on Erik. The vicomte had seen him, and he wasn't sure what to do. It was until he saw the glint of steel in his hand that Erik realized that he was in danger. That Christine could be in danger.

Thinking quickly, Erik threw a smoke bomb at the vicomte's feet, disorienting him enough for Erik to grab Christine and disappear into the mirror. However, he waited behind the glass, watching Raoul's reaction. The patron walked in, surprised and confused as he searched the room. Erik kept quiet as he held Christine close to his chest. Raoul came close to the mirror, and Erik worried that they would be seen. However, Raoul looked defeated and left the room again. Erik remained still as the door closed, waiting for a few moments. As he expected, Raoul burst in, hoping to see something. With a sigh, Raoul slowly closed the door again, and didn't come back.

Debating what to do, Erik sat next to the glass with Christine quietly sleeping on his chest. He was glad that she hadn't woken during Raoul's search, as that could have been dangerous. It was strange that he had been brandishing a sword, and waiting in her dressing room. He knew that Christine grew up with him, but it seemed a little rash.

Deciding that the coast was clear, he started to get up, but Christine stirred and shifted. Her position made it impossible for him to move without waking her again. With a deep sigh, he straightened the blanket around her, making sure that she didn't get chilled as they hid in the walls. Erik watched the door through the night between periods of sleep, making sure that Raoul wouldn't come barging in again.


	8. Chapter 8

Morning came quicker than Christine would have wanted. She see the light through her eyelids as she started to wake. Although, something was different, as she wasn't in her bed. Her mind tried to remember what had happened last night, recalling her impromptu music lesson with her Angel. She also remembered falling in the water, and Erik had saved her. However, she couldn't remember much after that. Although she remembered Erik singing to her during the night while she lay on a couch. However, she didn't think she was still on the couch.

Curiosity getting to her, she slowly opened her eyes to find herself in a hallway with a sheet of glass next to her, ending the corridor. Christine sat up a little, finding Erik leaning against the wall, fast asleep. And, much to her horror and embarrassment, she had been sleeping on his chest. She scrambled to her feet and took a step back, covering her mouth. She hoped that she hadn't woken him, as she would be mortified if he had found her like that.

Although, it begged the question on how she got into that position. Her memory became clearer, and she remembered him saying that she didn't know where her dormitory was. She looked over at the glass, realizing that it was actually the mirror in one of the lesser used dressing rooms. He had set her on the couch to sleep, but she wondered what had caused them to duck into the hidden passage. She sat next to him and placed her head on his shoulder, feeling more comfortable in that position.

Erik opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He hadn't intended to sleep for so long, especially on the floor. He shifted, finding his movements were lighter. Christine had moved from laying on his chest to leaning on his shoulder. His heart soared, realizing that she could have left him while he slept, but she didn't. She was still near him.

"Erik?" she whispered, as he hummed a response. "Are you awake?"

"Nearly," he smiled, peeking through his mask. Christine couldn't help but grin in response.

"Erik, why are we in the mirror?" she asked with a small laugh. Erik nodded once as he inhaled.

"Well, Raoul had been guarding your other dressing room, so I took you in here. You had asked me to sing you to sleep after I placed you on the couch, but it seemed to have attracted his attention. He looked about as exhausted as you were, and he had a sword. I didn't want to startle him, so we hid in here," Erik explained, wondering how Christine would take that.

"He had a sword? Why would he have a sword?" she asked.

"I do not know."

"I'm glad you're alright," Christine whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder again. She couldn't understand why Raoul would wait in her dressing room all night with a sword in his hand. "Do you think he misunderstood what was going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he was expecting me to go to dinner, and I could hear him calling my name when we left. Do you think he saw us go through the mirror?"

"I doubt it, since he didn't check the mirror, but I wonder if he thought that you were in harm's way," Erik rationalized. Christine nodded, agreeing with him. "You better get going, though. Rehearsal probably will start soon."

"Of course," Christine whispered as she stood again. Erik could feel her uneasiness.

"I'll come see the performance again tonight," he informed as her face lit up.

"I'll look for you."

Erik watched her walk out of the mirror and out of the room. His heart felt heavy, watching her leave him. He wondered if she felt the same way, but he stood and walked back down the depths again.

* * *

Andre was wandering the opera house, needing a moment to stretch his legs. He had come in early to make sure that the paperwork was correct, and needed a moment to himself before Firmin came in and they went to supervise rehearsals for a little while. While he was walking, he found a familiar face, though not one he expected. It seemed that the vicomte had stayed the night.

"Vicomte," Andre greeted with his casual smile. He couldn't help by notice that he was still in his formal navy uniform. "Pleasure to see you. Why are you wandering here so early?"

"I was looking for Miss Daae," Raoul replied. "I believe that she has been kidnapped."

"I believe she's just with her tutor. It seems she frequently disappears to train her voice," Andre explained, wondering why his patron would be looking for a chorus girl. Raoul nodded once, looking worried.

"How often does she disappear?"

"I wouldn't know, Monsieur. I would talk to Madame Giry if you are that concerned for her," Andre answered plainly. Then, as if fate had planned it, the manager saw her run up the stairs, wearing a dressing gown. It didn't sit well with Andre, but he pointed to the staircase just as she disappeared. "Although it seems that she has returned."

"Thank you," Raoul whispered before going up the steps. Andre watched, confused. He hadn't realized that the vicomte had such an interest in a disappearing dancer, but the manager shrugged and went about his business.

Christine had made a point to change before leaving for her dormitory. She still had a change of clothes in the other room, and quickly put on her smock and dressing gown. He saw Monsieur Andre in the hall, and quickly rushed passed when a well dressed man distracted him as she climbed the stairs. It was still too early for rehearsal, and she thought she could sneak back into her bed before the entire opera house woke up.

Just as she touched the handle to the dormitories, something touched her arm. She turned to see Raoul standing in his formal wear as he enveloped her in his arms. Christine froze before her hands touched the back of his shoulders.

"Raoul," she murmured, confused if nothing else. He let her go and sighed.

"I was so afraid for you. I heard someone in your dressing room last night. I feared the worst," he informed as Christine winced. He had heard the singing.

"I was with my teacher," Christine answered shortly. "Our lesson went on a little too long."

"Did you stay the night?" Raoul asked, shocked.

"No, no, I fell asleep in a dressing room after I got back. I didn't want to climb the stairs," she replied. There was a silence and she bit her lip. "Please don't tell the managers. I can't imagine I'm allowed to sleep wherever I like."

"I understand," he nodded. "But you are alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired," Christine answered, opening the door to her dormitory. Raoul nodded before giving a slight bow, excusing himself. As he walked away, Christine ducked behind the door and exhaled. She would have to be more careful from now on.


	9. Chapter 9

Erik returned to his cove and sat down at the organ. He stared at the keys in thought, remembering his promise to be in the audience again. However, if the vicomte was going to stay for Christine, that could prove to be problematic. The vicomte seemed partial to his viewing box. Although, he did promise something would happen if Christine wasn't playing the lead as well. Erik smirked as he walked to his desk. It seemed that he would once again step into the shoes of the Phantom. He grabbed a piece of paper, writing another letter to the managers to be delivered by Madame Giry.

He climbed up to the top of the opera house's theater, standing on the rafters. He could see Christine in her costume, singing along side of the insane Carlotta. He sighed as he climbed down a little more on to the catwalk, making sure that the stagehand Buquet wasn't around. Even listening to a rehearsal of Christine's song filled his heart with what he thought was pride. However, his elation was broken by Carlotta's sharp and early interruption. Irritated, he looked around and located her throat spray. With a impish grin on his face, he climbed back up into the rafters to then climb back down to the stage level.

Keeping to the shadows, he glanced through the supply closets, finding something to throw Carlotta off her game. Finding something that would do just the trick, Erik laid in wait. Soon, while he hid in the background cut outs, someone placed Carlotta's throat spray close enough to tamper with it. While the chemical wouldn't damage her vocal cords, they would paralyze them for long enough to get Christine the part that she deserved. He poured a generous amount before pocketing the chemical and climbed back into the rafters.

* * *

Firmin opened the note that Madame Giry had handed him again, and he groaned. It had been a few days since the last note, and he had hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. He ripped open the envelope and began to read.

 _Dear M. Firmin, I would like to remind you once again that my salary has not been paid, box five has yet to be empty for my use, and it seems that you did not adhere to my request of Miss Daae replacing the horrid La Carlotta. If this has not been fixed by the moment the gala begins, a disaster will ensue. I would suggest you heed my warnings. P.T.O._

 _I know you've been keeping my letters a secret from M. Andre._

 _-OG_

Firmin huffed at the back message. It was a bluff, it had to be. There was no way a stranger could enter and sabotage the performance without someone mentioning something suspicious. He pocketed the letter and walked to the theater. Andre was sitting in the balcony, watching the rehearsal. Firmin sat next to his partner and handed him the letter.

"What's this?" Andre asked as he took the paper.

"Take a guess," Firmin grumbled, watching Carlotta strut around with Christine doing her best to keep up. Piangi seemed especially entertained by his lover and the little ingénue. Andre sighed and handed the paper back. "It seems we haven't gotten rid of the Phantom as of yet."

"Apparently not."

"Should we at least keep box five empty? It's not that hard to move the vicomte to another box," Firmin suggested. Andre scoffed.

"I don't think we should do anything. We shouldn't listen to the commands of a mad man. He has yet to shown his face, or prove that he's real in any fashion," Andre reminded, shaking his head. "We have a theatre to run. We're not here to listen to crazy demands given by a letter."

"Fair enough," Firmin answered, leaning back in his seat.

"Push it from your mind. We have to start discussing what opera will open next, although, I'm sure Monsieur Reyer would like an opinion."

"He usually does."

"Any suggestions?"

"Something funny, I suppose. Il Muto went over well," Firmin suggested with a shrug. Andre opened his mouth to say something, but a deafening croak came from the stage. Andre and Firmin both turned their attention to Carlotta, who stood in shock. She tried again to hit the note, but another croak came through, louder than the last. The orchestra pit stopped playing and stifled their laughter as Reyer tried to control them. Carlotta ran from the stage, screaming and shouting as always.

"What happened?" Andre whispered.

"I think the Phantom made his appearance early," Firmin replied, earning a disbelieving look from Andre.

"Richard, please," Andre groaned before leaving. Firmin followed closely behind, knowing that they would be the ones that would have to calm the diva once again.

As the managers followed Carlotta into her grand dressing room, Christine could see Madame Giry exit through the main doors. She wondered if the ballet instructor was going to talk to Erik. However, as Monsieur Reyer called her forward, she pushed it to the back of her mind. It seemed that she would have to assume the leading soprano's part for the rehearsal. Piangi was less than excited about the change, but didn't let it show in his singing.

* * *

Erik watched from above, and grinned. It had been a while since he had played a prank on the opera's inhabitants, and he was glad to see Carlotta as she was. He leaned back in the rafters, preparing to hear his protege sing once again. However, his bliss was interrupted by a woman staring at him. It seemed that Madame Giry needed to talk to him. Generally, he would ignore her when she had that expression, but with Christine singing, he found himself to be in a fair mood for her rantings.

He climbed down, but didn't approach her. Instead, he waited for her in an old dance room, one that had been deemed _unsafe_. In reality, it was where Madame Giry and Erik spoke in confidence, far away from listening ears and prying eyes. Soon, Madame Giry entered, seemingly irritated. It wasn't often he saw her upset.

"Madame," Erik greeted, keeping his voice even once the door closed. He stepped from the shadows as she frowned.

"Erik," she whispered. She rarely used his first name, and he waited for her to continue. "You have gotten bolder."

"I didn't want to miss Miss Daae's rehearsal, as I am unsure if I will be able to attend tonight," he replied calmly. Madame Giry sighed.

"You can't hide in the rafters. Someone has seen you," she informed. Erik straightened, realizing that she wasn't upset with him loitering. She was worried for him.

"Who?"

"Joseph Buquet. I heard him talking in the dormitories about the Opera Ghost. I think he saw you, and he has started more rumors," she answered, letting a silence come between them before speaking again. "I haven't been able to scare him back into silence."

"I see."

"I am not sure what to do."

"Don't worry, I'll figure something out," Erik informed before stepping back into the shadows.

"Erik," Madame Giry called before he could disappear completely. He waited, stepping back into view. "Be mindful. Christine will be present."

"Of course," he nodded before slipping behind a mirror. She took a deep breath, wondering what he had planned. Without another thought, she left and returned to the theater for rehearsal.


	10. Chapter 10

The cast had finished rehearsal when Christine returned to the dressing rooms, choosing the one that she had slept in the night before. Carlotta had not returned after her croaking episode, and it looked as if Christine would once again be playing the lead. She was nervous, but she knew Carlotta's lines because the diva had insisted on rehearsing her lines. She changed into her costume behind a screen, wondering if Carlotta would return at all. After being replaced twice, Christine wondered if she would assume her position the next day.

As she walked out the dressing room, there was a small commotion, mostly of the dancers gossiping about the diva and the stagehands getting everything together. Christine walked around them, careful not to get in their way, but ended up bumping into someone anyway. She was apologizing, she noticed that she had bumped into Raoul.

"Careful," he smiled, wearing the same formal navy wear. He had his sword at his side, and she took note of it.

"Thank you," she replied, shaking her head.

"Nervous? You'll do great," he reassured.

"I hope so," she answered confidently. Raoul was surprised on how calm she was, and that she wasn't the same girl that he had talked with so many years ago. She was a grown woman, and a beautiful one as well. "Raoul, why are you carrying a sword? I doubt you'll find trouble in an opera house."

"Oh," he replied, caught off guard. Christine looked at him expectantly, a sense of worry under her calm demeanor. "It's a part of the uniform, no more than a decoration, I assure you. Nothing to be afraid of."

"That's good to hear," she sighed with a smile. "Are you here to watch the performance again?"

"Yes, I have a nice box up on the balcony, but I'm keeping you. If I may, I would like to see you after the performance."

"While I would like that, I told my teacher that I would see him afterwards for some advice."

"Him?" Raoul asked, surprised that her teacher was a man. The vicomte felt that it was inappropriate to schedule lessons that late, and it didn't make him feel any better to learn that her teacher was a man. Christine could feel his unease, and excused herself.

"It was nice to see you again, Raoul," she informed, feeling bad for turning him down again and leaving.

* * *

As Christine rushed to the stage, little did she know that Erik was on the catwalk when she ran into the nobleman. He listened to their conversation against his better judgement, but was pleased that he did. Listening her turn down the vicomte was almost as magical as her singing. Raoul did look confused, although he accepted it and walked back toward the theater. Erik sighed, realizing that he would have to do something about box five. After all, he had promised Christine that would be where he was seated.

Erik followed the movements of the vicomte carefully, making sure to not arouse his suspicions. Hoping that he was unfamiliar with the layout of the opera, wondering if he could lead Raoul through a labyrinth of the vacant section during the performance. However, the vicomte didn't seem interested in returning to his seat, peaking the phantom's interest.

Keeping to the shadows, he saw the vicomte look around before walking into the dressing room that Erik had taken Christine the night prior. It seemed that Raoul had noted something from last night, where Erik had hoped the vicomte thought it was a dream. While Erik watched from the shadows, wishing there was a better vantage point. However, it seems that he was looking at the mirror first, causing Erik to force his hand.

"Vicomte!" Erik called, mimicking Andre's voice. Raoul immediately exited the room, as he was not supposed to be in there. Erik quickly shrunk back further into the shadows behind a curtain as the vicomte looked for the manager. Once the coast was clear, Erik flew into the room and closed the door before entering the mirror. He would have to cover up the mirror entrance to keep Raoul from discovering too much, but that would have to wait.

Erik navigated through the tunnels and walls before finding his way above the large chandelier in the main hall. He could see the guests start to settle in, and he saw box five occupied, as it was last night. It seemed that the vicomte had found his seat. Erik frowned, realizing that he would have to somehow remove the man from his seat without any interrupting the opera. He would hate to ruin Christine's limelight. Erik had given her the opportunity, after all.

Suddenly, he smiled as he walked back down the tunnels. He was going to watch his angel perform from box five, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the vicomte sat in his seat. It could grant him the cover he needed. He dashed back down to the depths to grab something before the opera began.

* * *

Raoul sat in deep thought, waiting for the managers come out and announce the start of the performance. He had been thinking about the night before, and he could have sworn that he saw Christine with a strange man. However, when he blinked, his mind went foggy and there was nothing. It seemed too real to be a dream, but he wondered if it was. Christine even mentioned that she had been gone since morning. It didn't seem logical.

"Monsieur Vicomte," a familiar voice greeted, startling Raoul. He stood from his chair and turned to see the ballet director.

"Madame Giry," he replied, sighing with relief. "How can I help you?"

"We have a tradition at the Populaire where we take our newest patrons backstage during the performance. It slipped my mind last night, so I came to offer tonight," she informed. Raoul thought it was strange that she was offering this now, moments before the start of the show.

"Maybe another time, perhaps," he answered with a slight bow. Madame Giry looked less than pleased, but bowed before leaving. He watched her turn the corner, feeling like that she wasn't saying something, but decided to sit back in his seat.

* * *

Erik walked through the walls, finding the secret panel that led to box five. There was a small opening, just large enough for him to see when the lights dimmed. He pulled out a vial and a syringe, preparing for his surprise.

It wasn't long until the main hall dimmed and Erik slid the panel open, facing away from Raoul. With all the applause, it wasn't hard to keep quiet enough for him to remain oblivious. Carefully, he stood behind the vicomte and stuck the needle in his neck. Raoul tried to turn to see what had happened, but his body soon fell limp.

The phantom placed the vicomte on the floor, propped up by the wall. By Erik's calculation, the nobleman would be out cold for the next two and half hours, perfect for him to watch Christine and sneak away before he even woke up. Erik took his seat and applauded toward the end as Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre took the stage. Not his favorite sight, but a necessary evil, Erik supposed.

After a short word from the managers, the curtains opened for _I Grandi Sogni di un Pavone_ and Erik grinned. While not the best opera Christine could showcase her skills, it was better than most operas that Lefevre had tried to put on.

It wasn't long before his angel herself came on stage and smiled up toward him. Erik couldn't help but smile back, even though he knew that she couldn't see his masked face. The orchestra began to play, and Erik listened to the beauty that streamed from Christine. Even Piangi's voice couldn't topple his delight in her voice. Although, he did keep close watch on Raoul between songs, just in case he somehow woke up prematurely.

Soon, the opera ended and the standing ovations began, telling Erik that it was time to vanish. While the lights were still dimmed, he placed the vicomte back in his seat as Christine ran off the stage again, hoping to see her angel of music. Erik disappeared back through the panel before making his way to the mirror.


	11. Chapter 11

Erik waited behind the mirror patiently, remembering that Joseph Buquet would have to be dealt with. He would not be easy to subdue like the vicomte was, and the phantom would have to tread carefully. Although he did promise a great disaster if they did not heed his demands. He would have to get creative if he was going to intimidate the managers and not frighten dear Christine. As he heard the door open, his thoughts turned back to the present and watched Christine run inside, safe within the walls. She dashed to the mirror, looking expectantly and unsure.

With a dramatic pause, he waited, wondering what she would do. He wondered if she would go searching for the mechanism hidden on the frame, or if she would wait patiently for him to keep his promise. After a few moments, Christine frowned, truly a despairing image for Erik, but she indeed trace her fingers around the frame. A smile quirked at his lips before he activated the mirror from his side, surprising her.

"You're late," she informed with a wide grin. Erik admired how her frown was so quickly extinguished as he reached out his hand for hers.

"Only slightly," he replied softly. Christine grasped his hand as he pulled her behind once again. The glass returned to its natural place as a knock came at the door. Both of them froze, equally curious to see who it was. It only took a moment before they heard Raoul on the other side of the door. Christine sighed, seemingly nervous. "It seems that your vicomte wants your attention."

"Among other things, I'm sure," she replied before turning her gaze to him. Erik waited, wondering if she would return through the mirror. This was the third time that he had interrupted their reunion, so he waited for her decision. However, her hand never left his. "What are you waiting for?"

"Your decision," he answered evenly. Christine held back a laugh as she could see a tinge of jealousy and worry in his eyes. Raoul called out again, but she ignored him, staring at her angel.

"I thought you knew my decision," she sighed, holding back a giggle. Erik gave her a curious look before she started leading him down the corridor.

"Are you sure?" he asked, suddenly second guessing himself. He had no qualms having Christine sing for him again, but he was surprised that she wanted his company rather than a nobleman's. She stopped and turned to him, confused.

"Do you not want to do our lessons tonight?" she countered, suddenly worried that she had been incredibly forward. Erik silently cursed himself in his mind before sighing.

"If I had it my way, we would meet every day and night so I could hear you sing," he reassured, glancing back to the mirror. "But why would you want to spend your time in darkness instead of the company of a potential suitor."

"Suitor?" Christine repeated. Now she was bewildered before realization hit her. It hadn't occurred to her that Raoul would be interested in a courtship. She almost laughed at the idea, as she hadn't seen him in years. She didn't realize that she was smiling until she saw Erik's clenched jaw. "I am not interested in wealthy suitors, monsieur _ange._ I have all I need within this opera house."

"He fits within that realm as well," Erik reminded, still unsure. Christine stared at him.

"Nothing is happening between me and the vicomte that is beyond friendship, and even then that is a strong word," she insisted, easing him a little. "Are you afraid that I would cease your lessons?"

"Something like that," he admitted. Christine took a deep breath and took a step towards him.

"I promise that I will not end our lessons, and will only stop when you have deemed that the lessons are no longer of your interest," she swore, raising her right hand. "Now can we go? I have rehearsal early in the morning."

"Of course," he nodded, watching her eyes light up again. His heart ached, realizing that what she said might actually be true.

* * *

Raoul was surprised to find himself back in box five when he woke up. He didn't remember falling asleep, but the evidence was clear. He could see the orchestra packing up with lingering guests toward the back. He stood, finding that he had a massive headache. Slowly he made his way down to the main area, searching for Madame Giry. However, he was intercepted by the managers.

"Vicomte!" Andre greeted.

"How did you like the gala?" Firmin added. Raoul greeted them before glancing around.

"Monsieurs, would you mind if we talk for a moment in your office?" the vicomte asked. The managers exchanged worried looks, but agreed and led him upstairs.

Firmin sat at his desk as Andre stood by the window, both watching Raoul glance down the hallways before locking them in. They looked on, concerned, wondering what had their best patron act so suspisciously.

"What is this about?" Andre pressed. Raoul turned and took a deep breath.

"During the performance, did you notice anything happen in box five?" Raoul asked, almost desperately. Firmin furrowed his brows.

"I didn't," the manager replied.

"I can't say I did either," Andre admitted. Raoul nodded, suddenly embarrassed and annoyed. "Vicomte, what is going on?"

"I was knocked out during the performance," he answered. The managers froze, shocked. "I remember a sharp pain in my neck, and the next thing I knew, the opera had ended."

Raoul watched as the managers slowly looked at each other. They knew something he didn't, but they didn't seem to be willing to share. The vicomte kept calm, hoping for some sort of answer, or a plan to prevent it again. Andre cleared his throat and turned to Raoul again.

"If you know something, please tell me," the vicomte informed, trying not to sound demanding. Andre inhaled.

"I think that this might have been a prank. We have been victim of pranks around the opera house the last few weeks," Andre answered. Firmin scoffed, drawing their attention. Andre silently stared, warning his partner.

"You think otherwise?" Raoul guessed.

"Vicomte, as you have been at the opera house a few days now, I'm sure you have heard the rumors of a phantom running around. The opera ghost," Firmin clarified. Raoul shook his head, as he had not heard the rumors.

"You think a ghost drugged me?" Raoul clarified as Firmin laughed, shaking his head.

"Of course not! I'm no fool, but I do believe that there is a man behind the mask, so to speak. The entire cast and ballet have reported seeing shadows and missing things that shouldn't go missing. Apparently, Monsieur Reyer reported that an entire piano was missing a few months ago. I think that there is a rational explanation, but I don't think these are mere pranks," Firmin clarified as Andre slowly crossed his arms.

"He also said that it returned within a few weeks. Apparently, sounding better than it ever had before. We have a prankster with a strange sense of humor. However, I do not think that your attack was related to this phantom, or whatever. I think we should follow up with the police," Andre added, turning toward Raoul.

"In the meantime, I think it would be best if we moved you to another box," Firmin suggested, surprising his partner.

"Richard," Andre began, his voice stern. "I don't think that's necessary."

"I disagree. Obviously this is bigger than we thought. The phantom has a means to get what he wants," Firmin replied, gesturing toward the vicomte. "It's only a matter of time before this gets worse."

"What do you mean by that?" Raoul asked, interrupting the argument. Andre went to deny, but Firmin handed the young man the letter. The vicomte read it before looking between the two.

"This mentions Miss Daae by name," he remarked, handing it back. "These are threats that mention Christine."

"It mentions several people," Andre sighed, remembering the infatuation he had with the singer. "Vicomte, I wouldn't take that note too seriously."

"However, as Firmin pointed out, two of the demands have been met by a freak accident and an attack. I don't think you should take this lightly," the vicomte suggested before shaking his head. "Why haven't you involved the police?"

"Would you have become a patron if you had known that there was a madman apparently loose in the opera house?" Andre asked. Raoul's silence was answer enough. "We must deal with this discretely. We just got our sopranos back, even though Carlotta will have to take some time off. Let's keep the opera house out of the tabloids for now."

"Fine, but I will be taking special interest in this," Raoul informed before he opened the door to leave and find Christine. He turned around and looked at the managers. "And for God's sake, please move my seats to another box so I don't have the embarrassment of being taken advantage again."

"Of course, vicomte," Andre answered as the door closed. Firmin sighed as Andre grumbled something under his breath, sitting at his own desk.


	12. Chapter 12

Erik guided Christine back down the bowels of the opera house, back to his home. She seemed excited to continue their lessons, but something weighed on her mind. Erik wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut about the vicomte. Although, it was nice to hear Christine say that she had no interest in the boy outside the realm of friendship. In fact, it made his heart soar and pick up speed.

"Erik?" Christine exclaimed, surprised by his excitement. He shot a rare smile back at her, making her heart skip a beat. "What's gotten into you?"

"What indeed," he answered cryptically. Christine bit her lip as she tried to keep up. Soon, they came upon the boat and Erik released her hand. Just as she took a step forward, Erik picked her up by her waist before placing her inside the small boat. She yelped in surprise, but allowed him to put her down as she looked up at him.

"Erik-" she started before he smiled.

"I think tonight, we should celebrate," he replied, interrupting her.

"Celebrate?"

"Of course! We should celebrate your voice and your wonderful performance."

"And your teaching," Christine added enthusiastically, still unsure what had changed his mood so drastically. Erik smiled at her comment as he pushed the boat away from the shore.

"We'll celebrate all of it," he promised as they glided across the water. Christine stared up at him in awe, seeing his eyes dance. She could almost see hope in his eyes behind the joy. She wondered what he was hoping for, and decided to wait on that question.

Within minutes, they arrived at Erik's home. Christine noted that they made good time, and she assumed it was due to his impatience. He was floating on clouds, and she wished she could share in his reverie. He hopped onto the bank and helped her to her feet. Once on dry land, he took both her hands and stared at her. It wasn't an uncomfortable stare. Instead it was one of wonder and admiration.

"Erik," she whispered with a light laugh. It seemed that half the words out of her mouth were his name.

"I could listen to you say my name a thousand times over and never tire of the sound," he murmured. Christine raised an eyebrow.

"Are you drunk?" she wondered softly before chuckling. He seemed a little offended, and shook his head.

"Never in front you," he insisted as she laughed.

"Are we going to practice tonight?" Christine inquired. She wanted to show him her dedication to the role of Aminta and that she had practiced. However, to her disappointment, he shook his head.

"Not tonight. Tonight is about leisure and celebration," he answered before leading her deeper into the cavern to the small kitchen. Christine covered her disappointment with an ecstatic smile and nodded.

"What do you have in mind?" she wondered before he straightened, returning to himself for a moment.

"Only the finest for my Angel," he prompted before gesturing to the kitchen. "First some dinner and wine. After, we can do whatever your heart desires."

"Whatever my heart desires?" she smiled. With a nod, he looked at her expectantly. "What's for dinner?"

"It's… it's a surprise," he informed, realizing that he had no idea. Christine had a feeling that he hadn't gotten that far, but she appreciated the thought.

"Although, if I had known that we were celebrating, I would have worn something nicer," she lamented, looking down at her attire. After the opera ended, she had changed into a simple cream colored dress. It was easy to move around in, perfect for her underground excursions.

"Angel, you look beautiful," he reassured before ushering her out of the kitchen. "I did say surprise."

"What am I supposed to do all by myself?" she complained, looking back at him. A few suggestions ran through his mind, but he pushed them aside.

"Why don't you take a nap?" he wondered. The thought hadn't cross her mind, but the idea was appealing. It was exhausting to sing for nearly three hours straight, and Erik's sudden mood swing hadn't exactly helped. As she thought about it, he nudged her towards his room, hers when she stayed there. "I insist. I'll wake you when the food's ready."

"Promise?" she asked playfully.

"I promise," Erik informed before kissing her forehead. Christine nodded, feeling her cheeks grow warm. She at first wondered if she should take the couch out of consideration, but thought that it was better to avoid the disagreement and went to the bedroom. She laid on the bed and within a few minutes, she fell into the void.

* * *

Erik saw the door close behind her before he exhaled inwardly. He had completely lost himself in the fact that Christine had chosen him over the boy not once, not twice, but several times. When she mentioned that she didn't even see him as a suitor, Erik could have shouted to the heavens in praise and thanks. He had been so sure that she would leave him for the wealthy patron.

However, in his excitement and relief, he had been too rash. He did want to celebrate, but he didn't even think how he was going to celebrate. He hardly had any food in the pantry, but at least he did have at least two bottles of wine. At the very least, they could have that. It wasn't dinner, but it was celebratory.

He searched through his cabinets and realized that he hadn't left to get food in quite a while. He still had half a loaf of bread, a small cheese wedge, and some fruit. Nothing that would be worthy of a first meal with his Angel. However, he wasn't sure if he had much of a choice. It was either this or just wine, which would not end well.

With a dejected sigh, all the excitement left his body as he pulled out what remaining food he had left. Christine definitely deserved a better meal than this, and his mind went back to the vicomte. He had probably planned a beautiful dinner at a fancy restaurant, as most men did when they celebrated with their women.

Erik scoffed at himself at the thought. His woman? Christine was an eager student that seemed to enjoy his company. She never eluded to the idea that she thought of him more than that. Even still, he would have loved to take Christine to a proper dinner. Maybe one day, there would be an opportunity where he could. Where he could show her how much she truly deserved. However, for now, he would be content with where they were at. That was more than he believed he deserved.

* * *

 _Christine woke in a meadow surrounded by daisies. As she sat up, she saw a man standing not too far from where she was at. She stood and walked over to him, admiring his broad back. He had clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the horizon._

 _Without thinking, she stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders, letting him know that she was there. He turned around and Christine smiled, seeing her Erik. It was strange, but in the dream, she knew that he was her one and only Erik. She couldn't place the emotion she felt when she realized that he belonged to her._

 _"What are you staring at?" he asked her. Christine looked up, realizing that he had turned around. Her arms were at her sides as she looked up at him. She didn't have an answer. "Christine, what are you staring at?"_

 _"You," she answered truthfully as he laughed._

 _"Me? But why would you be staring at me?" he whispered as he took off the mask. She watched carefully, unsure what to expect. As the mask descended, only a dark void filled the space. Christine stared, unable to determine what she was looking at. It was like a constant shadow across his face as he looked down at her. "What are you staring at now, Christine? Are you starting at me? Or the place that isn't me?"_

 _"What?" she asked, confused. His now only eye was filled with worry and rejection. He turned away from her and put the mask back on._

 _"Do you stare at what you want me to be, or who I am?" he questioned. Christine walked to his front, but he turned away from her again. "Answer, Christine. Answer my question."_

 _"Who you are," she answered before he turned to her. His lips didn't move as she heard his voice again._

"Who I am?"


	13. Chapter 13

Erik arranged the food on a wooden platter, wishing he had something fancier to present with. It wasn't much, but it would be enough. Once Christine left, he would go out for more supplies. He hadn't realized that he was so low. He walked into the main area and put down some blankets, hoping to make the cold room a little more inviting. Placing the platter on the piano bench, he looked at the time. It had been nearly forty minutes since Christine had fallen asleep.

Gingerly, he opened the door and peered inside. She was lying on her back, fast asleep. Erik wondered if he should even wake her when she mumbled something. Curious, he stepped closer and stood next to the bed, turning his ear toward her.

"Who you are," she murmured. He raised an eyebrow. Was she asleep? Did she mean to ask who he was? Without thinking, he replied.

"Who I am?" he spoke, bewildered. Christine stirred, seemingly uncomfortable. He cursed himself silently before taking a deep breath. He gently shook her shoulder before her eyes opened.

"Erik?" she whispered, focusing on him. To her surprise, his mask was still on. She stared at him, realizing that she had been dreaming.

"Are you hungry?" he asked with a charming smile. Christine nodded, remembering that they were supposed to be celebrating. Slowly, she sat up and looked up at him.

"I'm starved," she teased, stretching. A pang of guilt hit him, but he brushed it off. It wasn't the most magnificent dinner, but it would do. He held out his hand, and she graciously took it. "Did I say something before I woke up?"

"You mumbled something, but you were just dreaming. Come," he encouraged, leading her back into the main area. She grinned, seeing the makeshift living area with blankets and a platter of food. There was even a bottle of wine and two glasses. "It isn't much, but…"

"It's wonderful. Thank you," she smiled up at him. For a moment, he lost his breath. Recovering quickly, he walked over to the wine and opened it. Christine waited a moment before she sat down on the heap of blankets in front of him as he poured.

"To you," he whispered as he handed her a glass and toasted. She brought her glass to his as well.

"To my Angel of Music," she informed before taking a sip. Erik sat down across from her, taking a drink as well. "What did you prepare for us?"

"Bread, cheese, and a small array of fruits," he explained hesitantly. She couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little embarrassed. Christine knew that the celebration was a last minute decision, but she wondered if he wanted a grander feast. So, she grinned and took a strawberry from the platter.

"Erik, this is delicious," she encouraged, hoping to make him smile. Instead he grimaced. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Christine. You deserve so much more than blankets and bread. You deserve banquets in grand halls," he sighed, shaking his head. She deserved what the young boy could give her, and what he himself could not. Erik turned away, afraid that she would come to her senses and leave. However, he didn't hear any movement.

"I don't need banquets, or grand halls. A picnic is much more fun than a stuffy formal feast," she argued. There was a certain irritation in her voice that he hadn't picked up before. Curious, he turned to her. "The fact that you were even willing to put this together means the world to me, I promise."

"It does?"

"Yes. No one's ever thought to do this for me before," she insisted before laughing to herself. "And I'm so glad you didn't postpone this so you could make it grander."

"I didn't even think of postponing this," he replied, surprised at himself.

"And I appreciate it. It means that you enjoy my company, not the pomp and circumstance," she informed firmly, eating a piece of bread. Erik stared at her in disbelief, but he mentally chastised himself for thinking otherwise. She was the kindest woman in the world, and he needed to give her credit for being such.

"I do enjoy your company," he said absentmindedly. Christine beamed at the admission and nodded.

"And I enjoy yours," she replied before sipping. Erik sighed, shaking his head. "Now, lighten up. We are supposed to be celebrating!"

"Of course," he chuckled, bringing the wine to his lips. Silently, he warned himself not to drink too much in front of her.

"Any plans for the rest of the evening?" she asked after a moment of comfortable silence. Erik glanced up at her, concealing his panic. He hadn't thought passed dinner, and she noticed. "Would you mind if we did practice?"

"If that's what you want to do, then we shall do it," Erik answered with a nod. Christine grinned, thinking her face would split in half if she tried to smile wider.

"Truly?"

"I don't see why not."

"Can we…" she began before rethinking her questions. Erik looked at her, surprised to find her tongue tied. With a sigh, she continued. "Can we play your opera?"

"My opera?" he repeated, genuinely surprised again.

"I've been looking over Aminta's part for a while now," she mentioned, avoiding his gaze. He held back a laugh by clearing his throat.

"I was wondering where that went," he commented, a little sterner than he had anticipated. In all honesty, he should have guessed that she had stolen it away. "Do you have it with you?"

"No, it's up in my dormitory, but I have memorized the lines."

"You memorized them?" Erik repeated again, starting to sound like a parrot. Christine bit her lip as she nodded, noting that his voice was void of any positive emotion. He was shocked, and wasn't sure how to respond to such wonderful words. Embarrassment caused her to avoid eye contact as the room fell silent. He wasn't upset that she had taken the music, but he was elated that she had taken the time out of her day to learn his music. Music that he had written for her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after more silence. He shook his head to leave his reverie before looking at her.

"There's nothing to apologize for," he replied with a smile. She cautiously looked up at him, not fully believing him. "Although, I would like the music back when you have a chance."

"Of course," she replied, more formal than he would have liked.

"I haven't finished Act III just yet," he added, hoping to enlighten her. She only nodded. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she firmly replied, looking toward the water. He hummed a noncommittal response, not believing her. She sighed as he stared, hoping to get her to admit her thoughts. "I've found myself rather embarrassed."

"How so?"

"I shouldn't have said that I learned that part. I thought you would be…" she whispered, feeling as if she was digging herself a deeper hole. "Happier?"

"Happier?" he laughed. He gingerly touched her shoulder, causing her to meet his eyes again. "I promise that nothing has made me happier than to know that my music moved you so much."

"So you're not upset that I took that part?" she asked. Erik paused, both relieved that she had the music and irritated that she had taken it in the first place. He wondered which would win out before he shook his head.

"I'm not upset, although, I would caution you against that in the future," he mentioned. He hadn't worked on the opera since he had introduced it to her, as he was busy with more lessons and running the opera house. He had written a few notes over the last few days, but hadn't seriously worked on it. If he had tried to and found that Aminta's part was missing, he wondered what he would have done. Erik clenched his jaw as he realized that he would have gotten rather upset.

"I understand," she answered, relieved to see that he wasn't angry.

"Why did you take it, though?"

"I wasn't sure if I was going to see you so soon after you brought me back. I wanted to take something to remind me of you," Christine muttered, looking at her hands in her lap. She took a deep breath. "I was also hoping to surprise you by knowing the lyrics."

"I would say your plan worked, my dear," he replied. Christine nodded, still feeling foolish. Erik handed her glass, hoping that she would relax again. Carefully, she took it from him and tried not to gulp the drink down. "I was very surprised."

"Well, good," she sighed, shaking her head. Although, she then wondered why she wanted to show him that she knew the lyrics so badly. At first she thought that it was because he was her teacher, and she wanted to show off. However, now that she thought about it, it felt more personal than that.

"Christine?" he asked, dragging her back to reality. She offered a smile, and took another drink.

"We don't have to practice, though," she back pedaled, making him laugh.

"I think we should. Help me again with your voice," he suggested as she stared at him. She was still unsure, still embarrassed of the thought. After eating a piece of cheese, he stood and held out his hand. "Please sing for me."

"Alright, but only because you asked so nicely," she whispered, hiding a smile. She took his hand and walked with him over to the organ by the wall.


	14. Chapter 14

Raoul stared at the dressing room door, hearing whispering from in the room. However, no matter how long he knocked and called out, there was no true response. Soon the whispering disappeared and the room was silent. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the Phantom that the opera house was famous for. However, he quickly dismissed the thought as he refused to believe in ghosts.

He waited another moment before taking his leave. It was possible that Christine had gone back to her dormitory instead of heading to the opera's celebration. The more he thought about it, it was more than probable that she had done so. He never thought she was one for large parties, even in her honor. Christine probably slipped away to get some rest.

However, Raoul couldn't avoid the party, as he was attending on his parents' behalf. He had hoped to spend the time socializing with his childhood friend, but it seems that she was quicker than he was. His thoughts wandered again to the note given to the managers, and he frowned. It seemed that whoever was writing the notes had their eyes set on Christine, and that made him nervous. Especially when there were threats involved.

With purpose, he returned to the party and prepared to make small talk with every dancer and stagehand. Everyone wanted to meet the newest patron, and see what he thought of the opera. He wasn't much for the art, but he could appreciate the hard work put into it. So, he would entertain for a few hours before slipping away to go back home.

"Dear Vicomte!" Firmin shouted enthusiastically. Raoul turned around and smiled.

"Monsieur," Raoul greeted, bowing his head slightly. As the manager came forward, it was clear that he had been drinking.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" the manager inquired. Even when drunk, he still had his propriety, something Raoul could admire.

"Of course."

"Are you looking for our little diva?" Firmin guessed, glancing at the dressing room down the hall. Raoul sighed before grimacing.

"I was hoping that she would attend the celebration with me."

"Oh, don't wait up. She's probably been whisked away by that damned tutor again. I just hope she won't disappear for weeks again. I don't think we could handle that amount of publicity again," Firmin laughed. Raoul nodded, unsure if the man was joking or not. "Besides, don't worry so much. If Madame Giry trusts this teacher, then he must be good. Nothing is ever good enough for that woman."

"Madame Giry knows the tutor?"

"Oh, that I don't know. I just know that she keeps a close eye on Christine, and for her to be so relaxed during her disappearance means that she's fine."

"I suppose that's sound logic."

"Agreed. Now, come, let's go enjoy ourselves. I think they still have some champagne left," the manager urged, leading the nobleman away from the darkened hallway. He thought for a moment before turning to the manager again.

"Is Madame Giry at the party?"

"Hm? She should be. Her daughter is, and I doubt her mother would let her wander around by herself with so many things happening," Firmin explained. Raoul nodded again, wondering if the woman would talk about Christine. He wanted to know what had happened to her since the last time he saw her by the sea.

* * *

Christine sat next to Erik on the organ bench as he started to play the first aria in _Don Juan_. She had specifically asked for it, as it was her favorite. He nearly wept when her voice soared over the notes when accompanied by the organ. It would sound even better with the orchestra, but this was the best he could do for the moment.

"How was it?" she asked a few moments after Erik had finished playing. She couldn't stand the silence, wondering if she had butchered it. He turned to her, pleasantly surprised. "How did I do?"

"Much better than I could have ever hoped," he laughed. She smiled. "I do have a few pointers, though."

"I figured as much," Christine sighed with a half-smile. He praised her again before going over the few notes she barely missed and had some breathing techniques that he wanted her to go over. Christine nodded, glad that she had done so well.

"But I could not have asked for a better performance, given that you had practiced on your own. I have to say, I'm impressed," he informed with a slight smile.

Christine could tell that he was doing his best to remain professional, as he usually did with their lessons. It was also the first time that he had said that he was impressed with her skills. She could always tell that he was proud of her, but he made a point to keep his thoughts to himself.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking up at him. He stared at her for a moment before turning away. She looked at the organ as well before a question formed in her mind. "Are you close to finishing your opera?"

"I'm not sure. I've been distracted, I suppose," he answered. Erik wasn't exactly distracted, but he had writer's block. He had melodies, but the story had halted. He had an idea going, but it didn't seem as plausible now. However, he wasn't going to admit that to Christine. "It seems we will have to wait before we can debut."

"Well, I would be willing to help in any way I can," she informed, staring at him with expectation.

"I could never say no to that," he sighed. She wondered if it was out of irritation or exasperation. Either way, he placed his hands on the organ again, as if he was preparing to play. Christine yawned, shifting his focus from music to his student. "Although, I wonder if we should call it a night for now. You've had a long day."

"I suppose," she sighed, fighting another yawn. Erik shook his head and exhaled.

"I should just make you your own room," he teased before he stood. She raised an eyebrow up at him. "The bed is yours, if you like. I know you have rehearsal again tomorrow, but I don't want a repeat of last night."

"It was rather cold," Christine recalled, remembering falling into the vast lake. "Alright, I'll stay the night."

"You don't have to," Erik reminded, suddenly feeling uneasy. Christine smiled.

"No, you're right. It's rather late, and I think it'll be better if I leave in the morning."

"As you wish," he mentioned before bowing slightly. She bit her lip in a smile. There was also a chance that Raoul was waiting for her again.

"Oh, I talked to Raoul about his sword. He said that it was for decoration on his uniform," Christine informed, catching his attention. Erik's lips were pressed thin at the mention of his name, but he nodded.

"So he had no intent to use it?"

"I don't think so."

"Very good," he sighed. Christine couldn't help but feel the atmosphere change when she said the nobleman's name. After a moment of debating in her head, she spoke.

"You don't like Raoul very much, do you?"

"It's not that I dislike him, I just don't trust him. He only noticed that you were there after you appeared on stage. I just think the fool is a little shallow, and that you deserve better. Even if you are only friends," he amended, staring at the wall rather than meeting her gaze. Christine's smile faded slightly. It sounded like he was jealous, and that saddened her. Although, why would she feel sad over something like this.

"I think you may be right, but he was so kind when we were children," she sighed. She thought about the coincidence of him only finding her after he saw her perform. Before she could think, she spoke her mind. "Do you think I should be wary around him?"

Erik froze, unsure how to answer the question. He wanted to tell Christine to stay away from the nobleman, but it would be for selfish reasons. The fop was probably honorable and the man that Christine expected him to be. That knowledge terrified him. However, it was no reason to tell her that she shouldn't see him. If anything, he should stay out of her business altogether.

"I would be yourself around him, but keep him at a distance. See how he acts around others in the opera house," he suggested, compromising. Neither of them knew him on a personal level, so it seemed like sound advice.

"I understand," Christine answered with a nod. He was correct in reminding her that not all nobleman grew up to be saints, and Raoul wasn't an exception because he was a kind child. Guilt swelled in Erik's heart after her reply.

"Just be careful. Don't avoid the boy," he added as she grinned again. She wondered if she dared to tease him about it. Her smile widened as she dared.

"But I'd hate to make you jealous," she chuckled. Erik turned a deep red, something that Christine hadn't expected. She had hit it on the nail. He was indeed jealous. Suddenly, she stood and panicked. "Sorry, that was rude."

"No, Christine-" Erik pleaded, realizing that he had been too honest with his reaction. She turned and started for the door.

"I'm going to sleep, I'll see you-" she informed, talking over him before he wrapped her arms around her. Surprised, she looked up at his mask and reddened cheek. "Erik?"

"You have nothing to apologize for. You were right," he finished before letting her go. He expected her to dash back into the bedroom, but she instead turned to face him.

"But why would you be jealous of Raoul?" she whispered. He stared at her before it clicked. "I already told you. I don't need fancy dresses or balls to be happy. Picnics and lessons are much better."

"Christine," he sighed. "This isn't about the dresses or picnics."

"Then what is this about?" she asked earnestly. Doubt clouded his eyes before he took in a deep breath. While he was good about expressing his feelings through music, he had no idea how to tell her how he felt. As Christine bore into his eyes with concern and curiosity, he felt his resolve break. He wrapped an arm around her waist, placed his hand on her cheek, and kissed her.


	15. Chapter 15

Christine froze as she stared at the man in front of her. The world seemed to stop as his lips met hers, and she sighed. Why she sighed, she wasn't sure. It seemed like it was a mix of relief and happiness. She found her knees were weak as she brought her hands to his face, slowly closing her eyes. With no experience in this arena, she did her best. She pressed her lips back as Erik's grip around her tighten.

Soon, she broke the kiss as she panted, glad for the fresh air in her lungs. Erik opened his eyes, searching for a reaction as Christine slowly smiled. While it wasn't how she expected her first kiss to go, it was still sincere and passionate. Relief surged through him as she kept her hands on his jawline.

"I think I see what you mean now," she whispered with a light laugh. Erik nodded, feeling a little embarrassed by his impulse. Christine tried to grasp what they had been talking about before the kiss, and it took a moment before Raoul popped in her mind. Surprisingly, she found herself not wanting to think of him.

"Christine," he whispered, faltering. Erik had no idea what to say, and his loss of words was maddening. She stared at him expectantly before he bit his lip. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her that she should stay away from the fool. He wanted to tell her that she deserved the world. And most of all, he wanted to tell her about his feelings. That ever since they were children, he had admired the brave young girl in the chapel.

"Erik?" she wondered, looking up at him. Suddenly remembering that he was embracing her, he let her go and took a step back.

"Sorry, I… uh…" Erik replied, shaking his head. Christine knitted her eyebrows, confused by his actions. "I don't know what came over me."

"Oh, I see," she said slowly, disappointment in her voice. He sighed, completely lost. "I'm going to go to sleep."

"Of course," he answered, running a hand through his hair. Christine noted that he wasn't looking at her, and she frowned. Mustering up all the courage she could, she stepped forward and touched his cheek. As he turned to face her, she kissed his exposed cheek in her tiptoes, causing him to freeze. Content with his reaction, she smiled and took a step back.

"I'll take your advice into consideration," she informed quietly before walking to the only bedroom. "I'll see you in the morning, _Monsieur Ange_."

"Goodnight," he mumbled after she had closed the door. Slowly, he touched the spot she had kissed, wondering if that had truly happened. If any of this had truly happened.

* * *

During the party, Raoul wandered around, greeting and entertaining as he went. Several ballet girls fell at his feet, but he graciously kept his distance. He wasn't here to start courting anyone, and he was certain that his family would disapprove of such a union. Regardless, he remained polite, secretly searching for the ballet director.

Soon, he found her on the fringes of the party, near the stairs. Raoul nearly shouted for her attention before thinking better of it. Instead, he hurried over to the older woman, surprising her.

"Good evening, Monsieur. How are you enjoying yourself?" she greeted with a stern smile. He bowed smoothly.

"As much as I am able to," he answered with a sigh. He wasn't a huge fan of large parties, but accepted that he had to make appearances. "I actually came to ask you a question."

"Of course," she replied, waiting for him.

"One of the managers mentioned that you might know Christine's vocal tutor," he started. She raised an eyebrow, suddenly defensive. He guessed it was because of his casual mention of her adopted daughter. "What I mean to say is, Ms. Daae has been missing a lot, and I would rest easy knowing that she is alright. We were childhood friends, so I want to make sure. This tutor seems to be having late night lessons with her."

"I am not sure what you are insinuating, but I don't know the tutor on a personal level. All I know is that he was sent to her by her father. He had some difficulty finding her after his death, but is now making up for lost time," Madame Giry informed. She hated lying on behalf of the Phantom, but she knew that only he could help Christine find her prophesized talent. He would never hurt Christine, she knew that.

"Have you met him personally?"

"Once. He's rather secretive. Introverted, I would say. He doesn't like the company of a lot of people," she informed, folding her hands in front of her.

"Do you trust him?"

"More than most," she replied. Raoul didn't particularly like that answer, but it seemed that Firmin was correct. She trusted the teacher enough to let him spend late nights with Christine. He relaxed, knowing that his childhood friend was most likely safe. "Why do you ask?"

"I found it inappropriate that she was having such late lessons, and I wanted to get your opinion. I was told that you have been raising her since Gustave died," Raoul explained, feeling a little ridiculous.

"While I would usually agree with you, but the man finds himself to very busy. He composes nearly all day, then teaches her after she finished rehearsal. He works very hard to bring music into the world. I hear that he will debut his own opera in the coming months."

"That is a relief to hear. Thank you for your time, Madame," Raoul bowed as she nodded.

"Anytime, Vicomte," she replied before clearing her throat. "I would be careful when mentioning her tutor, however."

"How so?"

"He doesn't want any attention on him. He prefers his solitude as he finishes his work."

"I will keep that in mind. Thank you," he smiled before he left her side. In truth, he was still uneasy about the idea of his friend disappearing so often, but her voice was proof enough that it was productive. With a sigh, he rejoined the party for a little while more before sneaking back to his family's manor.

* * *

Erik stood by his organ for a few minutes, his mind racing. He thought about Christine, their kiss, the new patron, and what he was going to do about all of it. Then he thought of his opera. As his thoughts buzzed, he was sure that he was about to go insane. Soon, he moved and sat down on the bench, his knees supporting his elbows in thought.

He smiled to himself as this night had gone better than he had ever hoped. Although, the kiss wasn't a part of his plan. Luckily, she seemed to have enjoyed it, which worked out for him. It begged the question of why she would smile up at him after the kiss. He wasn't handsome or sociable. He literally lived in a cave. Why would she have reason to enjoy his kiss?

Soon, he heard the commotion of the opening party start to die down in the opera house. Erik stood from his bench and walked to his desk. He pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled a note on it. He knew that he would return before Christine woke again, but just in case she did, he didn't want her to worry. He placed the small envelope for Christine on the couch next to a rose tied with black satin.

He found himself in need of advice, and Madame Giry was his confidant. It was getting late, and he hoped that she would still be awake. Running through the passageways, he went as fast as he could to Madame Giry's room. He slipped through a small door down the hall, making sure that no one was around before stepping from the shadows. He quickly knocked on the door before she opened the door.

"What are you doing?" she hissed before pulling him into her room. "Not everyone is sleeping. What if someone saw you?"

"I made sure no one was around," he defended shortly. Madame Giry stared at him, folding her arms.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, choosing her words carefully. Erik sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I need advice," he insisted. Madame Giry let her arms fall to her sides in surprise. The Phantom never asked for advice, even though she freely gave it.

"Advice on what?"

"On Christine."

"I don't know what you mean," she answered, confused.

"I kissed her," he blurted out before covering his mouth with his hand. He wondered where his tact had gone as her mouth gaped.

"What?" she hissed. Erik closed his eyes, realizing that he should have led up to that. "What prompted this?"

"We were talking about the fool. The new patron, and I didn't know how to tell her."

"You didn't know how to tell her that you love her, so you kissed her?" she summed up. He began to protest, but thought better of it. "Well, where is she now?"

"Still under the opera house, asleep," Erik informed, regaining his composure. The truth was out, and he felt a little more confident. He hardly even flinched when Madame Giry shouted.

"What?!"

"She had insisted," he began.

"I don't care who insisted! It's improper!" she growled, pointing her finger at him. Erik noted it, never having a finger in his face before. He didn't appreciate it. He glanced disapprovingly at her hand before glaring at her.

"There's no reason to raise your voice," he reminded as she cursed at him.

"You bring her back tonight," she demanded. He was surprised by her command and raised an eyebrow. "It's inappropriate! Especially after that."

"She is perfectly safe," he informed firmly. Madame Giry grumbled irritatingly. She was only ten years his senior, but she found herself mothering him constantly. She rubbed her temples, hoping to calm down. This was the Phantom after all. She was just glad that Christine appeared to soften his actions and words. "I will bring her back tomorrow."

"Unharmed," she added. Erik stared at her, offended that she would say such a thing. He would never harm her, and Madame Giry knew that. However, he sighed, realizing that she meant untouched, but decided to choose another word.

"You have my word," he promised as he sighed. "I still need your advice."

"What do you mean?" she groaned, her head hurting.

"What do I do now? Now that she knows?"

"I don't know, why don't you talk to Christine about this? Only she has the answers. Talk to her tomorrow before rehearsal. Alright? Now may I please get some sleep?" she pleaded with a sigh. Erik sighed, but nodded. He didn't like the idea of having to try and talk about his feelings again, but he knew that she was right. Only Christine had the answers to his questions.

"Of course, thank you," he whispered before taking his leave. Madame Giry watched him and sighed. That man was going to be the death of her.


	16. Chapter 16

Christine woke the next morning and stretched. It took her a moment to remember where she was, but smiled when she remembered. Glancing at the clock, she put on her dress from the night prior. The night prior…

She touched her lips as she remembered that she had shared a kiss with her Angel of Music. It was rough and surprising, but it was sweet. Christine laughed to herself as she sat on the edge of the swan bed. If someone had asked her if her teacher had feelings for her, she would have denied it. He had never shown any romantic interest in the past.

Laying on her back, she thought about Erik. He was handsome and kind at times. He had a wicked temper, but never took it out on her. With a sigh, she wondered what she felt for him. The kiss had caused her heart to pound and her knees to go weak. It was a sensation she had never felt before, and found herself wanting it again. Pursing her lips, she walked out of the room and into the main area by the organ.

To her surprise and delight, Erik had fallen asleep on top of the instrument. She guessed that he was trying to finish his opera when exhaustion took over. Quietly, she paced over to him, hoping not to make a sound. Only close, she leaned down and kissed his exposed cheek. He seemed to hide that side of his face, even when unconscious, and she grew curious. However, her curiosity was cut short when his amber eyes opened in shock.

Christine jumped back as her Angel leapt to his feet, still surprised as he woke up. He brought up a hand to his mask as he looked around. When he saw Christine standing in front of him, he relaxed.

"Christine, what are you doing?" he asked as he blinked away. She smiled, glad that she had startled him so easily. However, he wondered if he had lost his edge. He would have to be more careful in the future.

"You fell asleep on your organ," she mentioned as he nodded.

"So I did," he replied, still confused. "Aren't you supposed to be at rehearsal for the performance tonight?"

"I still have an hour before I have to return to my room," she informed clearly, upset that he didn't look happy to see her. She found herself happy to be with him. Erik sat back down, rubbing his eye. His eyes widened as he remembered the events of the night before. He still couldn't believe that she had gone along with it, and in his tiredness he thought that she felt she had no other choice. Maybe Madame Giry had a right to be upset.

"I think I should apologize for my forwardness last night, Angel. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he sighed, avoiding her gaze. Christine felt her mouth drop open and her blood ran cold. He was apologizing?

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," she murmured, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. She failed and he hung his head. "Did… Did it make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I don't have any experience."

"What?" he asked, his head snapping up to see her. Christine glanced at him before turning away, rubbing her hands together nervously. Erik immediately stood and took her hands, startling her. "You could never make me feel uncomfortable."

"Then why are you apologizing? Did I do something wrong?" she pleaded, confused.

"No, you didn't-"

"Then don't apologize, unless you regret what you did."

"I don't regret it," he grumbled, pressing his forehead against hers. Christine had a way of disarming him, and it was dangerous.

"I don't, either," she informed, looking up at him. Erik closed his eyes, giving a half smile. "And don't you dare apologize for that again. I would have pushed you away if I was uncomfortable."

"Of course," he whispered before straightening, staring at her.

"Good," she answered softly. She watched him as he looked like he wanted to say something. He sighed and shook his head.

"Unfortunately, I don't know where to go from here," he admitted. It burned him to admit that he hadn't a clue what to do, but he felt that he could trust her with some truths. He didn't know everything, after all.

"What do you mean?"

"Christine, I am not always good with my words, but I think my kiss last night have you at least a good idea of what I would want to say," he informed, drawing his confidence from his Phantom side of his being. He sounded cold, but he didn't know how else to come out with it. To his surprise, Christine listened earnestly. "I have never… pursued any form of affection before, but I find myself striving for yours."

"Erik," she sighed, grinning.

"However, if I have it," he began as she nodded eagerly. "I am not sure what to do with it."

"I'm still not sure I follow."

"Do you share my affection?" he finally asked, cursing himself on using such odd wording. Christine nodded again, at a loss of words. "Then I am at a loss. If you had said no, I would have returned you to the opera house and wouldn't have asked another thing from you. But I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with you now."

"Why don't we just do what we've always done? Enjoy each other's company and sing together," she suggested. Erik laughed and shook his head.

"I never thought of something as simple as that," he replied as she brought both her hands to his face. A question burned in her mind as he flinched when she touched his mask.

"Angel, can I ask you something?" she whispered. Erik knew what she wanted, but nodded slightly. "Why do you wear a mask?"

"Christine," he sighed, closing his eyes. He removed her hands from his face and kissed them. "Please don't ask me that."

"Why not?" she continued, searching his eyes. He stared down at her, and she could see he was agitated and afraid. She had never seen him in such a fashion, and she relaxed. "Do not treat me like a child. Please, I promise I will listen."

"My Angel, you would certainly leave me if you knew," he whispered. Christine said nothing, processing what he said. Why would she leave him over something like that?

"How could you be so sure?" she demanded, finding herself angry. Erik watched her, surprised by her sudden emotion. "Have I given you any reason not to trust me? After years of spending time together, have I not earned a little of your trust?"

"I do trust you, but-"

"Then you would not be so evasive when I asked such a question," she informed firmly, releasing her hands from his. Erik's eyes flashed in confusion and frustration.

"You don't have any idea what's under this mask, my dear," he whispered. His own anger flared beneath the surface as she stood up to him.

"You're right! I have no idea, not even an inkling! It seems that I hardly know you, _Monsieur Ange_. You know everything about me, but you have never once told me a bit about yourself. What are you so afraid of?" she demanded, stepping closer to him. He held her gaze evenly as he seethed. He had never been spoken to in such a manner, especially about his background. However, he said nothing. He was afraid, but he didn't know how to put it into words. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Why on earth would I be afraid of you?" he asked, his voice more bitter than he had intended.

"I don't know! You won't tell me!" she shouted, searching his eyes. Erik took a deep breath, not wanting to fight with Christine.

"I think I should take you back so you can prepare for tonight," he suggested. Christine folded her arms in defiance. She didn't want to go back. Even though they were fighting, she still wanted to stay with Erik.

"If you send me back now, I don't know if I'll come back here," she murmured, taking a risk. Erik blanched, but didn't move from his posture and waited for an explanation. "If we can't finish a fight, then what hope is there for the future?"

"The future?" he wondered. She sighed, ignoring his question.

"And if you can't trust me, how can I trust you?" she continued in a hushed tone. She could feel her anger subside, feeling panic emanating from Erik. Silence filled the room before Christine turned away. "I'm not going to blindly follow you into the dark, Erik. I would follow, but I'm at a loss."

"What do you suggest?" he whispered, his mind swimming. It seemed that he was going to lose his either way. Either she left because he remained silent, or she left because he believed he was a monster. He couldn't tell which was worse. Then a plan formed in his mind. Christine shrugged, unable to answer. "I have an idea. Perform tonight, and afterwards I will tell you everything you want to know."

"You promise?" she asked, both elated and suspicious. "Is there a catch?"

"That you return," he insisted with a trying smile. Christine sighed, and nodded. Relieved, he visibly relaxed, closing his eyes to keep from shouting his gratitude. After a moment, Christine stepped back in thought.

"I just don't want there to be any secrets between us," she whispered. He turned to her and smiled.

"I know. Just let me live in this bliss a few hours longer," he pleaded. Christine wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she didn't say anything more.

They stood there, staring at each other for a few moments before Erik grabbed her shoulders. She looked up at him before he brought her close into an embrace. She laid her head against his chest before wrapping her arms around his torso. His heart was pounding, and she wondered if it was because she threatened to leave. Before long, he brought her chin to face him and he kissed her again. She reciprocated eagerly, bring her hands to cup his face again.

"How can I let you go now?" he whispered after they parted. Christine laughed and shook her head before kissing him again.


	17. Chapter 17

After a while, Erik returned Christine to her dressing room. Instead of bringing her straight away to the realm above, they had apologized to each other and talked of the happenings around the opera house between kisses. Erik led her to the mirror and pulled the latch to remove the glass. Christine had started to step through, knowing if she looked back she wouldn't attend rehearsal, but Erik pulled her back. She turned to him, confused, as his lips landed on hers again. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his arms found her back.

"Erik, I need to go," she whispered against his mouth. He kissed her once more before releasing his grip.

"Of course," he agreed, reaching for her hand and kissing that as well. Christine's heart fluttered at the kind gesture, wondering how badly she truly needed to leave. "I'll be watching."

"You better," she smiled before walking through the mirror. It took all her willpower to leave his side as the mirror shut again. With a deep breath, she snuck out of the room and headed towards her dormitory again.

Erik waited behind the mirror after the door closed, wondering if she would run back in. When she didn't, he straightened, reminding himself that he had helped her attain her role in the opera. He traveled through the tunnels and found himself in the rafters near the chandelier. He groaned as a horrid note wafted through the auditorium. It seems that Carlotta had arrived early to practice by herself.

He sighed, walking towards the catwalks of the stage, hoping the catch a glimpse of his beloved Christine. When Erik did spot her, he held back a chuckle as she talked to her friend, Meg. He wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, but it seemed exciting and important. Knowing that she was in good hands, he climbed a nearby rope to the ceiling and stepped onto rafters, hidden in shadow.

Erik had watched performances and rehearsals from this perch before, and while it wasn't as acoustically sound, it served its purpose. He could see the entirety of the stage and the audience, which was ideal for his use. He could see everyone who entered the auditorium without anyone knowing he was there. Which was fortunate, as he saw the Vicomte enter through the back of the theater with one of the managers.

It took all his strength not to appear and terrify the nobleman, making it known that he was there. He also thought of swooping in and showing the Vicomte that Christine loved him. However, he knew that Christine would be incredibly embarrassed and shocked, which was not what he wanted to instill in her. Closing his eyes, he reminded himself of what had happened earlier. No, he would leave both of them alone. There was a good chance that Christine would run into the arms of the nobleman if she asked him to remove his mask.

Movement beneath him caught his attention. He glanced down and saw Joseph Buquet, the stagehand that had been spreading nasty rumors about the Phantom. Buquet was leaning against the catwalk railing, watching Carlotta like an eagle. It wasn't the first time Erik had caught Buquet gawking at the diva, even if he could understand why. Erik was just glad that Buquet left Christine alone.

However, Erik reminded himself that he had to put the stagehand back in his place, but he still was unsure how to go about it. His notes usually did the trick with a little light flickering and some whispering. Not with Buquet, though. He seemed to have nerves of steel, and infuriated the Phantom. Unfortunately, the stagehand knew the stage nearly as well as Erik did, which made the opera run smoothly each time.

Erik watched as Joseph continued down the catwalk, still plotting his revenge. It seemed that the stagehand would have to meet the Phantom to instill fear. While it wasn't ideal, but possibly scaring him would give him the power he needed to continue running the opera house. It would also give him the chance to give an accurate description instead of a description of a corpse.

* * *

Christine hurried and found Meg in the wings of the stage, hearing Carlotta practice hearing her voice bounce off the walls. It had been a while since she had seen the ballerina, and it showed. When Meg saw her, she bounded and embraced her friend.

"Where have you been?" Meg asked as she threw her arms around Christine. The singer laughed. "It feels like I haven't seen you in days!"

"I've been practicing for the opera," Christine reassured before Meg let her go.

"Maman said that you've been studying with a new tutor," Meg hinted quietly.

"Yes, he's been very good to me."

"That's good to hear. Is that why you've been sneaking off in the middle of the night?" Meg teased as Christine hushed her. Meg laughed, causing Christine to smile again. "What other lessons has he taught you?"

"Oh, Meg," Christine warned as her friend shook her head. "If your mother could hear you!"

"I would have a huge goose egg right on top of my head," the ballerina whispered through her laughter. "Do you think I'll ever get to meet this mystery man?"

"Maybe one day. He tends to be rather secretive," she exhaled. Christine wished that Erik was more social, but she understood that he didn't enjoy the company of more than a few people at a time.

"Well, I will look forward to that day, then," Meg grinned. "By the way, I saw that our newest patron has taken a liking to you. He was asking where you were last night."

"He was?" Christine replied, surprised. She did skip out of the after party, and she assumed that everyone would have enough fun to not notice her absence. Meg nodded firmly.

"He was asking about you and your teacher to Maman. He might ask you about it, too."

"Hmm," Christine hummed, thinking about what she would say. She had been unintentionally avoiding him, hurrying off to see Erik, but she wasn't sure what she would actually say when he did catch up to her.

"Christine, you alright?"

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just thinking about what I would tell Raoul."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Why do you have a vicomte running after you anyway?"

"We're childhood friends. He used to live near my father's house by the sea," Christine explained with a sheepish smile.

"That would make a nice love story. Two childhood friends, reunited by fate. It could be an opera!" Meg enthused as Christine shook her head.

"Meg, that sort of stuff doesn't happen in real life," Christine chastised, making her friend return to her giggling.

"Says who? I'm sure that he would be flattered if you showed interest."

"Why don't you show some interest, since you seem tickled by him?"

"He didn't live by my parents' house when I was growing up," Meg teased before taking a deep breath. "But you're probably right, as always. Do you think he's married?"

"I have no idea, actually. I haven't spoken to him in nearly twelve years."

"And you recognized him after that long?"

"Meg," Christine whispered. Her friend smiled and held up her hands.

"You're right," she relented. "I have to go back to practice. Will you be here before the performance? I haven't talk to you in forever."

"Yes, I'll be here. We can talk for hours before the opera."

"What about afterward?" Meg pushed. Christine opened her mouth, but Meg spoke for her. "But you are going to see your tutor."

"Yes."

"He certainly works you to the bone."

"He means well," Christine insisted before Meg grinned.

"He better. Now, I'll see you after rehearsal," her friend informed before bounding across the stage toward the other ballerinas. Christine watched before Monsieur Reyer called for her attention, walking to stand next to Carlotta.


	18. Chapter 18

The rehearsal went on as Erik stalked the stagehand for hours, not that Buquet ever knew. Erik, in the past, would knock things over to startle his prey, but he thought the silent approach was more suitable this time. Erik debated on what he was going to do, as the stagehand was rather good at his job. Losing this man would cause major consequences for the shows, as no one could do it better. Erik was sure that he could take up the slack, but that would be more difficult with him in the shadows.

The Phantom glanced down at Christine, who was a vision in her maid dress as she sang with Carlotta. The older diva didn't sound as heavenly, but it was clear that Carlotta was getting competitive with Christine. She wasn't going to go down without a fight, and Erik was fine with that for the moment. At least it produced a clearer voice from the woman.

Buquet watched from above as well, still infatuated with the Italian singer. Erik smiled before he climbed to the next rafter. However as he did, he saw some slight movement from the audience. The vicomte apparently had come to see the rehearsal, and Erik clenched his jaw in an effort to be silent. It seemed that he was also being escorted by the two managers, which was less than favorable. As if to add salt to the wound, they called Christine off the stage. Panicked, Erik retreated back into the tunnels, hopefully able to hear what they had to say to his angel.

* * *

"Five minute break," Monsieur Reyer called after one of the managers whispered in his ear.

"Miss Daae," Firmin called as the singer turned toward the auditorium. Christine walked off the stage towards the managers and Raoul.

"What can I help you with?" she wondered. The managers generally never interrupted rehearsal, and she wondered if Raoul had convinced them to.

"We wanted to ask you if you were familiar with these," Andre answered, holding out an envelope. She took it carefully and looked it over. The red skull had been broken, and she raised an eyebrow before slipping out the letter.

"What is this?" she asked, confused as she read. "This demands that I take Carlotta's place. Who wrote this? This is unacceptable."

"Do you recognize the handwriting? Anything?" Raoul wondered. He had formed a hypothesis in his mind, one that never crossed Christine's. She shook her head before turning to the managers.

"I want to be clear about this. I do not want to replace Carlotta unless my singing has done so on its own. I want to work for that position, even if it means that I can't," Christine informed. She wasn't going to take handouts. That would be an insult to her tutor, to her Angel. It wasn't fair.

"We are relieved to hear you say that, miss. Any idea of who it's from?" Firmin wondered. Christine glanced over the paper again before shaking her head.

"I don't know anyone with the initials O.G. What's this about box five?" she wondered, something clicking in her head.

"It seems the man has requested it be off limits," Andre sighed. "Any bells?"

"No, I don't think so, monsieur. Are there any leads?" she asked, handing the papers back to Firmin. Raoul watched her face carefully before inhaling.

"We have reason to believe that he is heavily involved with the opera house. He might even be living in the dormitories," Raoul explained as she faced him. His heart skipped a beat. "Do you know of anyone who might do this for you as a favor of sorts?"

"Of course not. Meg and Madame Giry are the only people I am close with, and neither of them would do this, I assure you," Christine defended before Andre put his hand up.

"We have already spoken to them, and they have no idea either. I assure you, we are doing our best to get to the bottom of this," Andre replied.

"It is good to know that you are unfamiliar with this, though," Firmin added as she nodded, giving a small smile.

"If you would excuse me, I should return to rehearsal," Christine informed as they nodded. She gave a small curtsy before walking back to the stage. Raoul watched her before the managers led him back to their office.

Christine walked to the stage wing and waited, thinking. She could tell that Erik was near, and she wondered if she could ask him about the letter. He had told her that box five was his box, and she started to question how he managed that. Was he sending menacing letters to the managers to run the opera house? He was cunning, but was he that daring? And the salary demand would explain how he was able to survive where he lived.

However, her thoughts were cut short when Reyer called for them to begin again. She stretched her neck and inhaled before walking onto the stage. Christine decided to ask Erik directly about the letters, and maybe figure out what O.G. meant.

* * *

Erik took a deep breath as she listened from a tunnel underneath the stage, close to where Christine was standing. He ran a hand through his hair before the managers dragged the nobleman away. She was smart, and he knew that she would come to ask him about the letters. He never thought that he would have to explain that he was the opera ghost. Chuckling under his breath, he figured that Christine would accuse him of it long before she found a letter.

With a word from Reyer, Erik retreated back into the tunnels in thought. It seemed that he would have to come clean about more than just his face after the performance. He thought about lying, but he sighed. Could he continue lying to her, after he lied about being an Angel? He was sure that Christine had realized that he was a man years ago, but that didn't mean he wasn't in the wrong.

Erik returned to the rafters and watched the rehearsal, and kept an eye on the stage hand. With a smirk, he realized what he could do and then retreated back into the shadows.

As Buquet stood still for once, Erik threw his voice, making it sound like he was whispering into stagehand's ear. At first it was just audible, but incomprehensible. Panic filled the man's face as Erik spoke a little louder.

"You've been spreading lies, stagehand," the Phantom hissed, elongating his words for dramatic effect. The man looked around, terrified.

"Who's there?" the stagehand demanded, quiet enough not to be heard by the conductor.

"Who else, Joseph Buquet?" Erik growled as the man shivered at his own name. "This is a warning, my dear stagehand. Watch your tongue, or I will rip it out of your mouth."

Erik retreated further into the shadows as Buquet started his search for the voice. The Phantom watched as the man searched in vain before retreating back to the ground level. Erik watched as the man interrupted the rehearsal, blathering about the voice of the ghost. Erik bit back a laugh as he realized that this man had been drunk, and was raving about phantoms. Buquet was quickly removed by his fellow stagehands before rehearsal started.

Before Erik decided to leave, he looked down and saw Christine staring at him. Her face was indescribable, and indecipherable. He stepped into the shadows again, disappearing from her view. She continued to stare, and then she smiled vaguely before turning away. Erik saw the smile, and his heart skipped a beat. He paused, wondering if she would still look at him so lovingly after she saw what was underneath his mask. Hope bloomed in his heart before his skepticism crushed it, but memorized her smile. Even if she ended up running away, he would remember that smile. He dashed away, feeling as if he could take on an army.


	19. Chapter 19

Raoul sat in the mangers' office as Andre and Firmin argued. He was exasperated by the heated discussion, and longed to leave. He had thought that Christine might have known the opera ghost, and while she said that she didn't, Raoul wondered otherwise. She may not know that she knew the ghost, after all. It was a long shot, but he wondered if her mysterious tutor was the Phantom. He couldn't prove it, but it made sense with the letters.

Soon, he had enough and excused himself as Firmin demanded that they take the Phantom seriously. Andre turned to bid him safe travels, but was cut off by his shouting partner. Raoul closed the door behind him and walked to the stage again. He was going to be present for the performance that night in box nine, unwilling to fall prey to the ghost again.

He stood in the back as he watched Christine sing with Carlotta and Piangi. Raoul could figure out the story other than there was a peacock and a bunch of women fighting over it, but he appreciated Christine's wonderful voice. If he ever had the chance to meet her tutor, he would personally thank him for bringing her song to the world. Even if he was the same man that had drugged him last night.

Soon, the rehearsal ended and the cast left to prepare for their performance. Raoul stepped back into the hallway and wandered over to the dressing room. He figured that this would be a good chance to talk to Christine, since most of her lessons occurred during the late evening.

However, as he walked closer, he saw the upcoming diva talking with a ballerina, one that he had noticed before. They seemed to be embroiled in a giddy conversation, forgetting that people were around. Christine seemed to sparkle as they laughed and teased. Raoul found himself wishing that she would talk that way towards him as well.

"Vicomte!" the ballerina shouted, surprised to see him. Christine froze and looked his way. He smiled as she grimaced. He ignored it and walked forward. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, ladies," he bowed, making Meg giggle. Christine forced a smile, remembering what her tutor had mentioned the night before. "May I say that I am very excited to see you both perform tonight?"

"We are very excited that you are here to watch, Vicomte," Meg informed. Raoul smiled as Christine found something rather interesting on the wall to stare at. "Say, will you be bringing your wife to the performance tonight?"

"Unfortunately not, seeing as I'm not married," Raoul replied. Christine turned to Meg, shocked that her friend would be so forward. Meg playfully frowned.

"That's too bad. I'm sure someone will come along," she smiled. Christine held her tongue as she could see Raoul glance toward her. "I would imagine the list of bachelorettes would be quite long."

"Not as long as you may think, mademoiselle," Raoul jested with a small laugh. Christine could see that he was charming, and she wondered if Erik was watching. "I was wondering, Miss Daae, if you would like to accompany me to dinner before the performance?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea, I still have to go over a few bars before I go on," Christine insisted before turning to her friend. "Would you mind taking Meg in my stead?"

"Of course," Raoul replied, hiding his disappointment. "Mademoiselle?"

"I would be honored. Give me a few minutes to change," Meg replied with a curtsy before glaring at Christine with annoyance and curiosity. Christine excused herself before disappearing into her dressing room. Once the door closed, she exhaled and slumped into her divan.

A few minutes passed before she heard a small tapping on the glass of the mirror. With a smile, she lifted her head and turned toward the passageway. With a nod, the glass slid away to reveal her masked suitor.

"You turned down the Vicomte," he noted as he strode in and stood next to her. Christine grabbed his gloved hand and smiled.

"Would rather that I took his offer?" she asked, closing her eyes. She felt his grip on her hand squeeze slightly as he kneeled next to her.

"Of course, not," he reassured as she turned her head to him and looked at him.

"Good," she whispered. "Did you scare poor Joseph?"

"I don't think the stagehand deserves your sympathy, my dear."

"Did you trick him?" she whispered, longing in her voice. Erik hesitated, but nodded.

"Just to keep him in line."

"Are you the Phantom, then?" she wondered. Erik stared at his feet for a moment before meeting her gaze again.

"I thought we agreed that we would do that after the performance?" he teased gently, rubbing her hand. Christine sighed and waited. "Yes, I am the Phantom."

"Are you behind the letters?" she replied immediately. Erik stared, realizing that he had told her too much too soon. "Did you demand that I replace Carlotta?"

"I did," he whispered, waiting for her to be upset. Christine said nothing for a moment, piecing together a puzzle in her mind.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Those managers would have let Carlotta sing until she died, while your voice remained unheard. I had to do something to push you into the light," Erik answered softly after taking a moment to piece together his thoughts. Christine stared at him and smiled.

"Thank you," she whispered. "But we should let my performance determine whether or not I'm ready for such things. Let me prove my worth."

"Of course, my angel," he smiled as she reached up and touched his bare cheek. He covered her hand with his. "Are you not upset to find that I am the opera ghost?"

"No, I don't think so. Should I be?" she wondered, mostly a question for herself rather than him. "You have your reasons, I'm sure."

" _Mon Ange._ "

"Erik, thank you," she smiled before pulling him for a kiss. His heart stopped and his breath left him.

"For what?" he breathed, staring at her.

"For telling me the truth," Christine answered, bringing her hand to his. Erik stared, shocked, before laughing.

"You are a wonder," he informed as she closed her eyes, falling asleep. Erik watched over her for a moment, wondering if the rehearsal had taken so much out of her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead before standing again, draping her in a blanket. Glancing at the vanity, he found Aminta's part, and took it with him.

Erik walked back through the mirror and returned the glass to its place. He glanced back at his angel before walking back through the passages. The boat was where he left it and he travelled across the lake quietly. He had wanted to work on his opera once again before Christine sang on stage. His heart soared at her words and kind smile, and his inspiration grew.

It had been weeks since he had been able to compose, and now he had the means to. His worries were temporarily put on hold as Christine filled his mind and soul. She had chosen him, out of all things, and it was wonderful.

Erik practically crashed into his organ as he pulled out a small notebook, jotting down thoughts and notes before bringing the score. He practiced, his fingers running over the keys to make beauty. He transcribed the music, effectively losing track of time.


	20. Chapter 20

Christine woke with a knock at the door. She called out that she would be ready in time before removing the blanket over her. Her thoughts returned to Erik, and she knew that he had draped it over her after she had fallen asleep. Glancing at the mirror, she prepared for her performance and left, nearly screaming when she ran into someone.

"Raoul," she commented, surprised. "I apologize, I wasn't expecting you to be right outside my door."

"No need to apologize. I was about to knock when you opened the door," he commented, taking a step back. "Meg wanted me to make sure you were on time."

"Of course," Christine smiled before walking around him. "I hope you enjoy the show, sir."

"I'm sure I will. Good luck," Raoul replied cheerfully before bowing. She curtsied quickly before running off.

The nobleman watched her bound towards the stage before taking a peek in the room. It was empty to his surprise. He half expected a man waiting inside. Content that Christine had been alone, he walked to the main hall to take his seat. Raoul was sure that the mysterious tutor was the same man pretending to be the opera ghost, and he was going to at least try to prove it.

Raoul took a deep breath as he relaxed in his seat, watching the people file in to their seats. He was glad that he had a balcony all to himself and didn't have to navigate through the crowd. It made things simpler, and he could see Christine from a better angle. He let his mind wander, thinking about the up and coming star.

Christine was unlike any other woman he had encountered. She was polite and proper, but she wasn't submissive. She was intelligent and clever, as her father raised her to be. However, she was also different as she didn't take to his advances. Raoul never had trouble attracting the opposite sex, but it seemed that Christine ignored or rejected his advances. It troubled him, wondering if he had done something to earn her apathy.

Raoul sighed, thinking he should ask her himself. He needed to know why she had no interest in him, even if it was as simple as she saw him as a brother. At least then he would know and come to understand. Now, he was just confused and frustrated. He shook his head, turning his attention to the tuning orchestra.

* * *

As Raoul sat comfortably in box nine, Erik played a few chords on the organ, piecing together his opera. He briefly glanced at the time, and then played with the melody a little before his heart stopped. Erik stared at the clock, realizing that the curtains would go up in five minutes.

Erik cursed under his breath as he grabbed his cloak and ran to the boat. He had never missed Christine's performances, and he would be damned before he missed it that evening. He pushed the boat through the lake before bounding through the tunnels, carefully navigating through them until he found himself at the panel of box five.

Within a few seconds, the lights dimmed as Erik caught his breath. Once he deemed it dark enough, he carefully maneuvered and sat in the shadows. He caught a glance of the vicomte sitting in a separate box, occasionally looking at box five. However, Erik knew that the nobleman couldn't see him in the dimmed box.

Erik drew his attention to the opera and saw his dear Christine, singing with Carlotta. He grimaced as he braced himself for the high pitched screeches, waiting for his Christine to begin again. Eventually, no one would have to hear from the old diva, and Paris could relish in Christine's clear voice. She was destined for greatness, he made sure of it. Although, he was confused when his darling had mentioned to not meddle with her parts and Carlotta. Erik was doing her a favor, and it seemed that she didn't want it.

Erik sighed inwardly, realizing that he couldn't deny Christine anything, even if it meant to stop demanding better roles for her. He would probably make suggestions on her behalf, but he would honor her request of not to sabotage the current diva.

As the second act was being performed, Erik could hear quiet footsteps leading to box five. With a quick glance at box nine, it seemed that Raoul was out of his seat. Erik smoothly jumped into the shadows near the panel, curious to see what the vicomte would do. He found it almost humorous that the nobleman thought he could catch the infamous opera ghost.

Raoul entered swiftly, hardly knocking in an effort to not alarm the rest of the guests. Erik pressed himself against the wood behind a decorative curtain as he unlatched the panel for his escape. He smiled at the silent contraption before hiding inside moments before Raoul drew back the curtain. Erik, however, was safely hidden away and watched the nobleman through a small slot in the wood. Raoul ran a hand through his hair, confused by what he thought he had seen.

Erik grew irritated as the nobleman kept snooping around his box. Luckily, it seemed that the fop didn't think of a trapdoor or anything of the sort could have been used. The Phantom hoped that Raoul would start believing in the ghost and make Erik's life easier. He didn't like the fact that Raoul was wandering through his opera house like he owned it. He especially didn't like the way he gallivanted around Christine so often.

However, even when the vicomte left, it had become evident that Erik would be able to finish watching the performance from the rafters instead of his normal seat. Curse that nobleman and his grand fantasies of playing the hero. Erik had no room for the white knight in his story, but he supposed that could be fixed in time.

* * *

Christine practically ran off the stage when the curtain closed. She told Meg that she would talk to her the next day, but she had to see her tutor. Meg smiled and told her to have fun, and that Christine would have to tell her all about it when she came back. She went straight to her dressing room and quickly closed the door behind her, leaving her in near darkness. There was a candle still lit, helping her navigate the room.

She lit two more candles before she changed out of her costume into a cotton dress she usually wore. As she took out the pins in her hair, she heard a knock on the glass. She smiled as she gave the mirror a nod before the glass slid away.

Erik stood in the passageway with a kind smile. Even in the reflection of her vanity, she could see the worry in his eyes. Christine couldn't fathom why he seemed so nervous, so she ran to him and jumped into his arms. Erik widened his eyes, surprised by her forwardness, but caught her easily, making her laugh.

"It's not often that the infamous opera ghost is startled," she smiled before he placed her on her feet in front of him. He kept his hands on her waist before he grinned. "Did you like the performance?"

"I loved every moment of it," he promised before kissing the top of her head. Christine looked up at him.

"May I ask my questions now?" she whispered, placing her hands on his chest. Erik hesitated, but nodded.

"Let's go back to my home before, though. If I am unmasked, I would like to do it in the privacy of my own home," he muttered, his voice colder than she was used to. Christine nodded as he moved the glass back where it belonged. She grabbed his arm, holding it tight, as they went back down underground.

Erik grew nervous as she held on tight, as he was sure that this would be the last time Christine held him such a way. He could no longer tell her no, even if she asked for his mask. She deserved the truth, and he vowed that he would give it to her. He had been given a few blissful hours, enough for him to gain momentum in his opera again. His inspiration had returned, but he couldn't help but wonder for how long.

Soon, they arrived on the shore of his home, and Erik helped her out of the boat. He guided her to the small couch in the corner and sat down next to her. Christine stared at him, waiting. It took a moment for him to gather himself, but he turned to her.

"May I ask one thing before we begin?" he murmured, barely audible. If Christine hadn't been sitting next to him, she would have missed it, but she nodded. "Please, let me finish that answers to your questions. Let me explain myself before you leave."

"Of course," she agreed. Erik inhaled, waiting for the first blow. He nodded, urging her to ask. She thought for a moment, realizing that this would have been easier if she asked the questions spontaneously. Christine wasn't even sure what she wanted to ask, aside from the mask. However, that seemed to be too on the nose. She would work up to that. "How did you come to live down here?"

"Madame Giry brought me down here," he replied evenly. Erik sounded like he was giving an impartial history lesson, distancing himself already. "I had run away from a gypsy camp, and she helped me find a home down here."

"You were raised by gypsies?"

"Not… exactly. I was a side show attraction, a means to get them more money during their carnivals."

"That's horrible," Christine gasped. "How old were you?"

"Five, six? Too young," he answered quickly, not wanting to delve too deep.

"Are they the reason why you wear the mask?" she braved, staring at him. Erik turned away, his lips curving upward in a sarcastic grin.

"No, but they didn't mind the mask most of the time," he replied cryptically. He didn't want to go into his terrible past about how he lived with the gypsies, and how he had finally managed to escape.

"Why do you wear the mask?" she whispered, almost like she hesitated asking at all. Erik froze at the question that had haunted the back of his mind most of the day. He stood suddenly before standing in front of her.

"This mask hides the monster," he answered. Christine raised an eyebrow, confused by what he meant.

"Monster? What monster?" she continued. Erik paused, placing his hands behind his back coldly. A shiver ran down her spine, realizing that he was playing Phantom instead of her Erik.

"My mother told me as such, and had me wear the mask. They called me the _Devil's Child_ , because I was a monster under the mask."

"I find it hard to believe that such a kind man could be a monster," Christine coaxed, leaning forward before standing. Erik stood his ground, staring at her evenly, and she noted his apprehension of her being so close. She debated in her head before taking a deep breath. "This next question, I will not hold you to your word. You do not have to do what I ask."

"I could never do that, Christine. You deserve the truth," he promised.

"May I remove the mask?"


	21. Chapter 21

Erik stared at Christine, saying nothing. She waited patiently, seeing the pain in his eyes. He had hoped that she wouldn't ask such a thing, but he knew better. His posture went rigid as he looked away, but nodded firmly.

"Are you sure?" Christine whispered. He nodded again. She swallowed, raising her hands toward his face. He grabbed her hand gently, turning his eyes to her again.

"Please…" he murmured, unable to find the right words. "Don't… scream."

"Erik," she cooed, giving a comforting smile. Slowly, his grip weakened and she touched the smooth porcelain on his face. Erik stiffened, as if he was prepared for her to slap him.

Christine reached and gently removed the mask as Erik closed his eyes. She froze for a moment, feeling pain and terror radiate from him. When he didn't reopen his eyes, Christine placed the mask beside her on the sofa before placing her hands on his jawline. He inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut.

Erik waited for something, whether it was a scream, a yelp, or even running footsteps that slowly faded away. Instead, he got silence, but he couldn't bear to look at the horror on her frozen face. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something warm on his imperfect cheek. Erik's eyes snapped open in shock, seeing Christine kissing his cheek. Tears gathered in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he muttered as she leaned back. He searched her eyes, looking for disgust or regret.

"Trying to put your mind at ease," she smiled, keeping her hands along his face. Christine fought more questions, wondering what had happened and how his face ended up with a mask. But when she saw the wonder and disbelief in him, she held her tongue. The time for questions had passed.

"Does this face not disgust you?"

"Why on earth would the face of the man who has given me so much disgust me?" Christine asked, rubbing her thumb against his marred cheekbone. A tear fell from his eye before she wiped it away. "This is who you are."

"But I'm a monster," he insisted, shaking his head slightly. Christine pulled his face down into a kiss, causing him to freeze up once again. After a moment, she released his lips and kissed his cheeks fervently.

"You are not a monster, _mon ange._ You are my Erik," she smiled. Erik stared at her, choking on his words. Christine's cheeks redden as she realized her words, but she didn't take them back. Instead, she kissed him again when he remained speechless. "Thank you."

"I think those should have been my words," he mumbled as he searched her face. "Why are you thanking me?"

"For trusting me," she grinned. "I could tell it wasn't easy."

"It seems to have been worth it," Erik sighed, relief soaking his words. Christine laughed as she handed him his mask. Carefully, he took it, as if it was going to shatter at any moment.

"You don't have to put that one around me, if you don't want to," she informed. Erik turned to her, still flabbergasted that she had taken it so well.

"Wouldn't you prefer not to see this?" he wondered, pointing at the scarred half.

"I prefer to see you for who you are, Angel. That includes with and without the mask," Christine replied, grabbing his free hand. "But I would be very happy if you took off the mask when we were alone."

"I-I can try," he stuttered, staring at his mask. Christine sighed before she placed it back on his face.

"You can take it off again when you're ready," she suggested as he stared at her. He felt conflicted, which surprised him. Once his mask was back in place, his first reaction was to take it off again. As she went to help with the strap, he grabbed her wrist and brought it down to her lap again. She furrowed her brows, confused.

"You requested to take my mask off," he replied with a smile before putting his mask on the end table. Christine felt a swell of pride in her chest before kissing him again. "Only for you."

"That's all I ask," she whispered before wrapping her arms around his torso. Erik looked down at her, smiling at her gesture. He laughed a bit, shocked that Christine was still by his side. "I'm glad you told me the truth."

"Anything for you, my Christine," he whispered. She blushed at his wording, but held him close. He placed his hands around her as well, putting his chin on the top of her head. "Any more questions you are dying to ask, my dear?"

"Let's just stay like this a while longer. No one's going to notice my absence for another hour or so," she insisted, her grip tightening. Erik gave a slight nod, feeling his body burn. He swallowed, focusing on the girl in his arms, wondering if she would always find her way into his arms.

However, Erik abruptly stood, nearly sending Christine to the floor. He stared at the lake, frozen in time. Christine glanced between him and the entrance, wondering what he was doing. She reached for his hand, and he immediately turned to her. There was uncertainty in his eyes before he grabbed her wrist and ran, nearly taking off her arm.

Erik could hear and brief protest from Christine before he pulled her behind a curtain. She didn't see how he did it, but the all the candelabras went out at once and they were plunged into darkness. He held Christine close and waited. It was a little while later before she heard splashing near the portcullis.

However, the splashing continued down the lake, away from the alcove. Erik exhaled nearly inaudibly, but kept Christine close to his chest. He needed to know that it was safe again before he let her go. There was a faint yelp and Erik relaxed significantly.

"Erik, what's going on?" she whispered as he looked at her.

"I'm not used to having company," he replied as he led her away from the curtain. "I'm going to take you back, and then I'm going to make sure that the intruder leaves as well."

"Alright," Christine nodded, sensing his concern. Erik took her hand, gentler this time, and guided toward a mirror in a different corner. She watched as he moved the latch behind the frame and the glass slid away.

"This will take you straight to the chapel as long as you don't turn down any hallways. I'll meet you there in a few minutes," Erik informed before kissing her forehead. Christine kissed his exposed cheek before running down the hallway. He watched her curls bounce with each stride before shutting the mirror again.

Erik turned and placed his mask back on, noting the cold feeling on his face. It was unpleasant, but he couldn't remember a time when he found it unpleasant. Ignoring that, he continued through the portcullis and went farther through the waterways, keeping to the ledge on the wall.

He knew the trap that had gone off was around the corner, and he peeked through the shadows. What he saw both surprised and amused him. It was the Vicomte de Changy himself, dangling about ten feet above the water. Erik calculated that he wouldn't die from the fall when the rope gave way. Unfortunately, the Phantom couldn't keep replacing traps, so the rope would give way in about an hour. The nobleman was in no real danger, and Erik guessed that Raoul would return to the surface world immediately after suffering such a blunder.

Content, Erik returned to his lair, glancing behind him to make sure the Vicomte hadn't escaped just yet. He slipped through the mirror, grinning, off to meet his angel once more.


	22. Chapter 22

Christine reached a dead end of the tunnel and glanced around. It was dark, and she hadn't thought to bring any sort of light. Honestly, she expected there to be some sort of light at the chapel, but it was completely dark. With a sigh, she leaned against the wall before seeing a small hole next to her. She peered through and saw the chapel within. If only she could get through the damn wall.

Suddenly, something touched her shoulder and she jumped. Christine would have also shouted out in surprise, but the hand covered her mouth as another arm wrapped around her waist. She relaxed, recognizing the hand that covered her.

"Don't scare me like that," she whispered when he relaxed his grip. She turned around, expecting to see Erik, but found only darkness instead. "I can't see you."

"I'm here," he murmured, a few inches from her. Christine reached out to touch him, but he had opened the wall as light came in. Embarrassed, her hand retreated as she turned to the chapel. "Why didn't you go through?"

"I couldn't find the contraption," she replied before she stepped through. She stopped and turned to find that he hadn't moved. "Aren't you coming?"

"The shadows are where I'm meant to be," he answered, only his white mask visible. Christine resisted a frown, knowing that he felt more comfortable with the mask on. Especially in the surface world.

"Wouldn't you be safer with me, though? You have company," she suggested, hissing the last sentence in case someone overheard. Erik smiled and reached out for her. Christine stepped forward as he caressed her chin.

"Which is why I must return to the shadows, my dear. I need to make sure that my home is safe and hidden away," he answered with a sigh. Christine touched his hand, and nodded. "I have to make sure that it remains hidden. For both our safety."

"I know," she sighed, leaning into his touch. Erik stared at her as her eyes closed. He was amazed at the power he had over her.

"Go get some sleep. You have another performance tomorrow, after all," he reminded, bringing her back to reality. Erik moved her hand to his lips, placing a small kiss. Christine's knees felt weak as he glanced at her through his lashes. "I will see you tomorrow, my sweet."

"I hope so," she replied, pulling him forward gently and kissing his lips. Erik eagerly returned the favor, wishing that they never had to part. Christine pulled back with a smile before she left the chapel, knowing that if she didn't, she would have followed him back down. Whether it was indeed safe or not.

However, Erik stayed a few moments after she left, almost wondering if he should run after her. Christine seemed to have a habit of catching him off guard, and he suppressed a smile as he closed the wall once again. He had to start resetting his traps, after all.

* * *

Raoul returned to the opera house sopping wet hours after the managers had left. He climbed through the mirror once again and sighed. He would have made it out hours earlier if he hadn't dropped his sword when the snare caught his foot. Now he was wet and miserably cold, and no closer to discovering the whereabouts of the opera ghost.

He took off his jacket and wrung it out over the wash basin before sighing. He would have to return home soon, or else people would come looking for him. Raoul wasn't known for staying out late, and he didn't need the gossip that it would cause.

As he replaced his clothes, Raoul glanced back at the mirror, which had closed again. He frowned as his clothes looked rumpled and disheveled. He pulled at the fabric, but it did nothing. Turning abruptly, he left the dressing room and walked through the hallways. It was rare that he came up empty handed when he searched from something, or someone, and it was disheartening to say the least. He worried for his childhood friend, as her tutor seemed, for a lack of better word, creepy.

"Oh, Christine," Raoul whispered, shaking his head as he closed the door. He would try a different strategy the next day, but he knew the answer laid behind the mirror.

As he walked into the main hall, he heard a noise, as if someone was walking in the halls above him. Raoul stared, waiting for the perpetrator, but saw no one. He climbed the stairs slowly, hoping not to startle the person walking around. When Raoul turned the corner, he found the ballerina Meg, who nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without thinking. She clutched her chest as she took deep breaths.

"I could you ask the same thing," Meg sighed, shaking her head. "Why are you all wet?"

"Oh, well," he started, glancing at his clothes. "It was raining outside."

"It was?" she wondered, confused. It was nearly February and it had only snowed for the last couple of months. The vicomte nodded, not sure what else to say on the matter.

"Anyway, I must leave as it is late," he informed before promptly walking away. Meg watched him leave, surprised.

"Monsieur," she called out as he made it down the stairs. The nobleman turned to face her, eager to hear what she had to say. Meg was still confused, and her curiosity got the better of her. "Why are you here so late?"

"I, uh, fell asleep during the after party," Raoul lied, slowly figuring out his words. Meg gave a brief nod, thinking him odd. Quickly he bowed and bade her good night before leaving the opera house. Meg waited a few moments before retreating back to the dormitories, wondering if Christine knew of the vicomte's late stay.

* * *

Erik had been watching the nobleman since he had fallen into the water, making sure that the man never knew of his lair. The last thing he needed was this fop wandering down here again. Hopefully the snare had taught him to stay away.

As he guessed, the vicomte had retreated immediately and returned to the dressing room. Erik closed the mirror silently so he could watch and wait. If this fool decided to come back through, the ghost would be waiting for him. However, the vicomte glanced in the mirror at his reflection before leaving quickly. Erik exhaled, relieved that he had left so quickly.

Erik also heard the conversation between him and dear Meg, and the Phantom could hardly contain his laughter as the vicomte told such an outrageous lie. When he failed to fib a second time, Erik bit on his fist as he grinned. It seemed that the nobleman hadn't planned on running into anyone.

As Raoul left, Erik returned to his lair, making a stop at the mirror. He stared at it, wondering if he should lock it. If he did, it would prove to Raoul that he was correct in that it was the Phantom's hiding place. Then again, that would also lead to the idea that Raoul had access to his domain, and Erik could decide which decision was better. Either was disastrous.

It also meant that Christine would be unable to find him when she wanted to. Erik sighed, shaking his head. With a sigh, he decided not to lock the mirror passage, but instead leave a trapdoor, which led to a dead end. Nothing deadly, but something he could control. If Christine happened to slip through the door, he would probably find her mildly panicked, but unharmed. If Raoul would fall, then that would be a thing he would deal with later.

He climbed back down to his lair and pulled out the blueprints to the catacombs that he designed. Erik hated that he had a map to his traps and passageways, but he needed to keep track of where he placed everything. Otherwise, old traps would catch him off guard, and Erik wouldn't have that. With a groan, he realized that he would have to work all night to create such a trap. Then he laughed at himself. He never complained about staying up late for a project before, but that was before he had promised to see his love the next day.

A smile crept across his lips at the thought. His love. His Christine. He touched his mask, remembering her kind words and gentle touch. He still couldn't believe that she had reacted in such a manner. There hadn't been a lick of fear in her eyes, which surprised him. No one had looked at his entire without fear or pity in his entire life. Now a beautiful woman with an ethereal voice had seen him and looked at him with love and passion.

"She'll be the death of me," Erik groaned, shaking his head. He placed his mask on the table before grabbing his shovel and pickax. It was going to be a long night, but he had to keep his home safe. Otherwise, everything would be jeopardized. Including his relationship with Christine, and he would rather die than part with her. So, the trapdoor was necessary.


	23. Chapter 23

Christine woke with a start, panting in fear. She had a nightmare, as she usually did around the anniversary of her father's death. She whimpered to herself as she hugged her arms. Taking deep breaths, she let the nightmare leave her mind, no longer wanted to see the ashen face of her late father. Slowly, she brought her legs to the side of the bed as she rubbed her eyes. The clock chimed six in the morning, about an hour before the opera house would spark to life.

Exhaling, she grabbed her wrapper and slippers before walking to the window. The sun hadn't shown any sign of appearing, and she decided to return to the chapel. She had meaning to go there for her father, but had been busy the last few days. Christine would have preferred to go to the cemetery, but decided to wait until the sun was in the sky.

She climbed up the stairs and walked through the halls before appearing at the familiar room. With a deep breath, she went in and started to light the candles within. Once she could see easily, she sat and prayed, hoping that her father was faring well in heaven.

A few minutes had passed, and her thoughts started to wander. Memories of the night prior invaded her mind, and she couldn't ignore that there was a passage that led to Erik within these walls. Determined, Christine stood and went to the wall, wondering what would trigger the passage. She smiled to herself, thinking about how surprised he would be when she found him.

After pressing nearly every brick and surface, Christine had nearly given up. It wasn't until she knocked a sconce on the wall did the passage present itself. Grinning, she stepped through in time before the wall closed behind her. She gave a small yelp at the groaning of the wall, realizing that she hadn't brought any candles or form of light. Instead, she grabbed the wall, remembering what he had told her. If she didn't turn down any paths, she would end up behind the mirror in his home.

However, without being able to see in front of her, she couldn't be sure if she was going straight. Christine prayed again, this time hoping that she wouldn't be lost in the bowels of the opera house. As she continued, a faint light was found in front of her. She laughed to herself, relieved to see anything that could lead her from the darkness.

The closer she got, the brighter the light was. It was a low yellow light, and it brought her so much hope. Soon, she found the mirror, and realized that she had to figure out the contraption once again. With a loud sigh, hoping to draw Erik's attention, she started feeling around for something. While Erik did not seem to hear her, she felt something move under her fingers and the mirror gave way.

Christine had to hold her tongue for voicing her triumph, suddenly wanting to surprise him. She walked through the passage, feeling an intense chill from the lake. All she was wearing was her nightgown and wrapper, and she quickly realized that she was rather undressed for her excursion. She turned to return to her dormitory, only to find that the mirror had closed with a firm click, and she sighed.

"I suppose not," she whispered, rubbing her forehead. If she had to, Christine could have tried to open the mirror again, but she thought that maybe it was a sign for her to stay.

Although, as she turned, Christine was surprised to see him home to be completely empty. She always saw him at his organ or writing desk, but Erik was nowhere to be found. What she did find was his cloak, and Christine wrapped it around her. It was frigid down there in the early winter morning, and he wasn't currently using it.

She padded to the bedroom, drawing the curtain back a little. He didn't seem to have doors, but the curtain did give some privacy. To her relief, he was fast asleep on top of his cover. He wore only his black trousers and white shirtsleeves. To her surprise, his hair was different. She usually saw it as a raven black, but it seemed his real hair was blonde.

Against her better judgement, she walked towards the bed to get a clearer look. His unmarred cheek was resting upon the pillow, and Christine could see why he wore the wig. Above the deformity was a balding area with wisps of hair. The rest of his hair was thick and long, except for that patch above his brow.

Christine wasn't sure how long she had been staring before amber irises greeted her. She started to smile before he practically launched himself to his feet, finding himself on the other side of the bed. She stood as Erik stared at her, slowly raising his hand to his face. Realization set in, and Christine started toward him.

"Erik," she began as panic came over his features.

"Christine? What are you doing here?" he hissed, seeing his wig lying on the pillow, next to where he slept. "How did you get down here?"

"I was the in the chapel, and I found my way down here," Christine explained. Erik stared at her, fear and appall across his face. She could see the seeds of anger starting, and she walked over to him. "I had a nightmare-"

"I'm not surprised," he whispered, his face falling into despair. Christine tilted her head, confused. "Of course you would have nightmares after seeing this."

"What? No," she whispered as he pointed at his face. He laughed, not his joyful lyrical laugh, but rather deep and cynical.

"You are not the first to be afraid of this face, my dear, and you won't be the last. You don't have to lie to make me feel better," he hissed. Christine flinched at his words as his eyes darkened with fury. "Tell me, did you sneak down here to see if your nightmares measured up to the cruel reality?"

"Erik-"

"Did you hope that everything was a nightmare, that I had a normal face in real life?"

"Erik, please."

"Please what? Please, hide your face? Please, you're scaring me?" he mocked, taking a step towards her. Christine stared at him, realizing that he was hiding his fear behind his anger. He wasn't angry with her, but rather with something out of his control.

"Stop it."

"Stop what, dear Christine?" he paused as she held her gaze steady with his. "Do you regret kissing this face now? Now that you have seen the extent of the horror? Do you wish to return to your vicomte now?"

"I said stop it!" she shouted, letting her voice echo around the cavern surrounding his home. Erik didn't flinch at her outburst, but slowly closed his mouth. His eyes flashed with regret, realizing that he had gone too far, but his anger returned quickly. "For God's sake, Erik, I don't regret kissing you!"

"Don't you?" he chuckled darkly.

"No, I don't," she insisted as he glared at her. Christine was a few inches in front of him, and before he knew what was happening, she grabbed his collar. With a fluid motion, she yanked him down, his lips meeting hers. She then wrapped her arms around his neck as he froze for a moment. Then he came to his senses and kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her. A few moments passed before they came up for air. "I'll never regret kissing you."

"Won't you?" he whispered, shocked.

"No, I won't," she smiled, loosening her grip. "And I'll have you know that my nightmare didn't even have you in it."

"It didn't?"

"Of course not. A dream with you in it could never be a nightmare," Christine reassured with a sigh. Erik looked at her, silently begging the question. "Around this time of year, I'm reminded of my father's illness. His death."

"Oh," Erik whispered. She stared at him as regret and guilt crossed over his features. She rubbed his arms comfortingly.

"You have a short temper, monsieur," Christine pointed out. He nodded, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry for startling you though."

"I am sorry for yelling," he whispered, bring her knuckles to his lips. Christine sighed, but smiled up at him anyway.

"Thank you," she smiled. He opened his eyes again, this time noticing that she had his cloak on. She stared down at the black fabric and grinned. "I suppose I was a little overhasty to get here. I didn't think to put on warmer clothes, and I found this in the main area. I suppose I should have asked first."

"I don't mind," he whispered, running a finger along the fabric on her shoulder. Christine fluttered her eyes at the close contact before she looked up at him again. His face had softened as he met her gaze before taking a step back. "I think it might be time for you to go back up, though. Rehearsals will start soon."

"That is true," she murmured. "Will you come and watch again?"

"Of course."

"Good," she smiled as he offered his arm. Christine gladly took it as he led her from the room. As she got on the boat, Erik untied the rope and stepped on.

"I have to warn you, though," he informed as they pushed away from the bank.

"Warn me?"

"I have laid traps around the cavern to keep others out," he began. Christine's brow furrowed, surprised. "There are people who would like to expose the Phantom, so I've taken precautions."

"I see," she replied, a little more understanding.

"I've placed a trapdoor by the dressing room tunnel," Erik informed bluntly. He turned to her, and she was shocked. "It seems the vicomte was a little too curious, and found his way down here last night."

"Your company," Christine remembered softly. "He was asking about you and the letters earlier. I think he's determined to find you."

"That could be problematic," Erik grumbled, pushing his way through the lake.

"What are we going to do?"

"We will carry on like normal, as we always do. I will watch the fop's actions closely, and make sure that he doesn't find his way back down here."

"And if he finds his way down here again?"

"Then I will make sure that he gets lost before finding his way back to the surface. Give him some negative reinforcement," Erik chuckled as Christine frowned. He looked back at her and sighed. "Nothing will come of your vicomte."

"He's not my vicomte," Christine spat as they made it to the shore by the staircase. Erik helped her out.

"I know," Erik smiled as she realized that he had teased her. She grabbed his hand, accepting his help out of boat. "Here, I'm going to show you how to avoid the trapdoor."

"Lead away, _mon F_ _antôme,_ " she smiled, tucking her arm into his. Erik raised an eyebrow, suddenly remembering that his mask and wig were gone. He turned his marred cheek away from her as they walked up the stairs. Christine laid her head on his upper arm, wondering what other traps Erik had planted.


	24. Chapter 24

Erik showed her the trapdoor and its mechanisms. Christine was uneasy, but he assured her that it wasn't dangerous, just cumbersome. He even promised to check on it frequently when she expressed worries of her falling in. She knew that he had to protect himself, but she wished that he led a more normal life. One that didn't involve trapdoors that led to deep inescapable pits.

After, he led her back to the mirror and kissed her hands politely. Christine melted her his touch as he drew back.

"Make me proud," he whispered before he opened the mirror.

"I will try," she smiled before running to him to kiss his marred cheek. He flinched away, but she was persistant. "Will I see you tonight?"

"I suppose," he murmured as she withdrew. "Although, you might want to attend the after gala celebration. It might sate the nobleman."

"I guess that's not a terrible idea," she sighed. Christine hated attending the parties that the managers always threw afterward. It was supposed to be a time for celebration, but found that it was more of a time to go drinking. Although, Erik was right. As a leading role, she would have to entertain the patrons for a little time. That included Raoul, which made her sigh again.

"Go for an hour, then you can come back to me," Erik compromised, touching her chin so she would look at him again. Christine smiled, and nodded.

"Alright, it's a deal," she agreed as they both heard her name being called from down the hall. It was later than they realized, and Madame Giry sounded impatient. Christine leapt from the mirror as he slid it shut. Before the door opened, Christine blew a kiss at the mirror, hoping that Erik was there to catch it.

"Christine!" Madame Giry scolded as she found her in the dressing room. Quickly, the woman closed the door and walked toward the singer. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I-"

"People will start asking questions if you keep appearing in your dressing room," Madame Giry hissed. Christine nodded. "Are you having midnight rendezvous with _him_?"

"Midnight rendezvous?" Christine wondered before realization hit her. She went a deep crimson and frantically shook her head. She would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about it, but she wasn't about to bring that up. "No, Madame, nothing like that!"

"That's good to hear, but people will begin to talk if you disappear like that again," Madame Giry warned with a huff. "Has he talked to you?"

"Talked to me? About what?"

"His feelings?"

"Oh, um, I suppose in a way," Christine replied, remembering their first kiss. Madame Giry gave her a wary look.

"And your response?"

"I feel the same way he does."

"Good," the ballet instructor whispered as she grabbed Christine's hands. "He may be a difficult person, but you will never find a more passionate human being. Although, Christine, please do not break his heart. If you have to, please do it gently, for his sake."

"I don't aim to break his heart," Christine reassured, wondering where her concern came from. Madame Giry nodded before leading her away to the door.

"Do you know his intentions?" Madame Giry murmured as she opened the door. Christine raised an eyebrow. "What does he intend from this relationship?"

"Oh, we haven't discussed that," the singer replied. She hadn't thought to ask Erik, and she wondered if that was a conversation that they were ready to have or not. Madame Giry hummed a response as they walked back to the dormitories.

"No matter. Go and change, rehearsal starts in twenty minutes, and you don't want to be late," the older woman stressed, gesturing towards the stairs. Christine nodded before dashing upstairs, still wearing Erik's cloak. Madame Giry grumbled a curse under her breath as she returned to her office, knowing that the opera ghost would like to speak with her.

* * *

Erik had lingered to see who the intruder was, and was relieved to see Madame Giry come through the door. If it had been the fop, things would have ended differently. She was still in her nightgown and his cloak, after all. He strained his ear, listening to their conversation. He wasn't incredibly surprised to hear them talking quietly, but could hear one or two words. When one was 'intentions', he listened a little closer.

He nearly laughed when Christine seemed confused by the question, and gave a vague answer. While it was true that they hadn't discussed it, Erik thought that Christine would have known the answer. His intentions were to keep her as close as he could for as long as she would allow. He kept watching until Christine left and Madame Giry cursed. With a sigh, he turned to go grab his clever disguise.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Madame Giry nearly gave up waiting for the Phantom before she heard him knock. With a dramatic exhale, she turned around and faced him as he loomed in the corner. She folded her arms and watched him.

"So?" she demanded. He didn't respond, keeping his gaze even. "I heard that you talked to Christine."

"I did."

"And it went well, I'm assuming, but what do you intend to do now?"

"Keep her happy," Erik answered immediately, knowing that she would ask.

"How?" she added, challenging him. Erik said nothing, not quite sure what to say. "How are you going to keep her happy?"

"I'm not sure-"

"What are you going to do to keep her happy? What do you intend to do?" Madame Giry wondered, trying to keep her voice down. Erik said nothing. "Erik, you need to have a plan if you intend to make her happy. Do you plan on courting her?"

"I plan on marrying her," Erik blurted out. Madame Giry's eyes went wide before they narrowed again.

"Erik-"

"You asked my intentions. Could you ask for better intentions?"

"You are a Phantom, or did you forget? How do you plan on marrying a girl without a proper identity?" Madame Giry whispered. She would do anything for Erik, but Christine was her responsibility as well.

"If those are your concerns, then I can remedy them easily."

"What about your living conditions? Let's say that your courtship is perfect and she then agrees to marry you," Madame Giry mapped out, careful with her wording before pausing. "Are you going to make your wife live underneath an opera house?"

"If she wishes to move somewhere, then we will. I would do anything for her."

"What about her career? The one _you_ helped her attain?"

"If she wants to continue singing, I will do nothing to stop her. She can sing and still be in the opera for as long as she wants to," Erik answered. He wasn't ignorant, as he knew that married women left the stage after the wedding, but he also wanted it to be Christine's choice. Her voice was too precious to be squandered.

"Have you even asked her yet?"

"No, I haven't talked to her about the future."

"I think it would be best if you talk to her, and fast," Madame Giry suggested. Erik tensed, wary of her tone.

"Or what?"

"The managers are getting suspicious."

"They've always been suspicious."

"Not like this. I think they are planning something, but they won't tell me. It seems that the Vicomte has spent more time with them as well," she explained with a sigh. His jaw clenched at the mention of the nobleman before he stared at the wall. "You have to be careful, Erik."

"I'm always careful," Erik hissed before leaving. He granted more patience to Madame Giry than most people, but even he had his limits. Although, if she was correct, then it was past time for the Phantom to make his appearance to his nosy managers.


	25. Chapter 25

Raoul came to the Opera Populaire early that morning to discuss more matters with the managers. He had a rough night, and now it was time to address it. The tunnels must run miles underneath the opera house, and he wanted to bring it up to Firmin and Andre. They might have some advice or ideas of what to do. Although, he wondered if he should admit that he got lost and then fell into a trap.

As he opened the door, he ran into Madame Giry walking towards the main hall. Raoul excused himself, but earned a pointed look from her before she nodded. He watched as she continued, wondering if she was always so unfriendly. With a sigh, he continued to the offices, finding the managers.

"Ah, Vicomte!" Andre greeted, surprised to see the young man. "What can we do for you?"

"I have come across something that both of you may be interested in," Raoul explained, although thinking that Firmin may be more interested than Andre. Both managers waited as he took a deep breath. "I believe I have found the source of your Phantom problem."

"What?" Andre asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Trust me, I don't believe in ghosts, but I have a feeling that your opera ghost is more than he appears. I found a secret tunnel behind a mirror that leads to the catacombs beneath this opera house. I have a hunch that's where your mystery ghost lives," Raoul explained, making sure to leave out Christine's possible involvement for now. He didn't know if she was actually in on the hijinks, and it seemed inappropriate to include her because he had found the catacombs through her dressing room.

"I'm not sure we can work on a hunch, Vicomte. How did you find such tunnels?"

"Pure coincidence, I assure you. I fell asleep in one of the dressing rooms after one of your fancy after parties and when I woke, I saw something strange behind the mirror. After investigating, the glass slid away and opened to a dark hallway," Raoul partially fibbed. Again, he wanted to keep Christine out of the conversation for now.

"And you found what down there?" Firmin wondered.

"Someone had been down there fairly recently, as there were snares and other traps waiting," Raoul answered. He also didn't want his reputation tarnished by his foolishness and the snare which caught him. "I think your ghost is down there, or at least someone potentially dangerous."

"Should we alert the police?" Firmin suggested before the other two gave a resounding _no_.

"We should figure out who or what we're dealing with before we draw any unwanted attention to the opera house. Right now, the Phantom is merely a myth, and the public believes it to be a prankster, which is how we are going to keep it," Andre informed firmly.

"I agree, bringing the police should be our last resort. Let's see if we can do this by ourselves first. I believe that we will find what we are looking for if we are careful," Raoul added with a nod.

"Agreed. We should wait until the season has run its course, though. It will be easier to search when many of the performers aren't on the premise constantly," Andre sighed. Raoul turned to him as if he was insane.

"This needs to be dealt with. I will not be subjected to humiliation again!" the nobleman insisted. The managers nodded.

"And you won't be. We've already moved your box, and the Phantom hasn't contacted us in weeks. I think that is a good sign that he has been placated for now. As long as we play by his rules for the remainder of the show, we shall be fine. In the meantime, we can figure out what to do about the Phantom, if we do catch him," Andre reassured.

"And what about the safety of the performers? Carlotta has been already subjected to this madman, dropping sets on her and such!" Raoul reminded, wanting to take immediate action. Firmin raised an eyebrow at the mention of the diva. "And I think that he might strike again."

"And how would you know?" Firmin wondered.

"I think you're right that the ghost has been content with what we've given him, but I think he is moving in on Miss Daae," Raoul explained. The managers paused, not sure what to say. "I found the tunnel through Miss Daae's dressing room. I was waiting for her to return for her lesson that night, and she never returned."

"Do you think she's in danger?" Andre asked.

"I don't know, but it seems that no one knows who her tutor is. She won't even tell me his name," Raoul mentioned.

"Why would she tell you?" Firmin pressed. It was strange that the vicomte would take such an interest in their singer.

"We're childhood friends," the nobleman replied with a sigh. "And I was hoping something more, but she has been preoccupied with furthering her career."

"Understandable. And you think that her tutor and this Phantom are the same person?" Andre surmised. Raoul nodded and sighed.

"That's exactly what I think. Although, I don't think that Miss Daae knows it. I believe that her tutor is keeping her in the dark, hoping to win her favor," Raoul explained quickly. The managers exchanged a glance before looking back at the vicomte.

"Then we may want to keep a closer eye on Miss Daae. We may be able to confront our Phantom," Andre agreed, a smile forming on his lips. "And in a week or two, we will take a look at your tunnel system. Hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this without any issue."

"I hope for the same," Raoul replied before bowing slightly. "And if you'll excuse me, I have some things to attend to before tonight."

"Of course, Vicomte. We will see you this evening," Firmin replied, tilting his head down as the nobleman left. The managers looked at each other before they both exhaled. They were in way over their heads.

* * *

Rehearsal went as planned, and nearly immaculately, as well did the performance. Erik watched from his box, more than pleased with the result. He noticed the vicomte staring at the box, keeping Erik in the shadows. Although, it seemed that the nobleman hadn't seen him yet. Even the managers seemed to keep a trained eye on his box as well. It seemed that Madame Giry's warning was more than warranted. It was good that he had encouraged Christine to be social, as it may placate the irksome men running his theater.

Although, Erik couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about the intense stares that his box had gotten through the night. He hoped that with Christine talking and visiting that the managers would calm down. Maybe even the nobleman would cease his endless searching for the elusive Phantom. However, for the moment, he only cared about hearing his dear Christine, who sang to him ever chance she got. His heart soared as he saw such emotion in her eyes. She was a wonder.

After the curtain closed, Erik dashed into the paneled hallway and made his way down to his lair. He told Christine to entertain her patrons for an hour or two, and now he had a chance to work on his music before she came down for her nightly singing lesson.

* * *

Christine sighed loudly as she changed from her costume into something a little more formal. She had promised Erik that she would go talk to the people attending the opera, accepting their praises and criticisms. Just as she fixed her hair, she heard a knock at her door. She rose and opened it, surprised to see a familiar face.

"Oh, good evening Christine," Raoul smiled. She saw the surprise in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected her to be there.

"Good evening," she answered, glancing over him. "What are you doing? Are you attending the after gala tonight?"

"I, uh, suppose so. Are you?" he stuttered as she nodded, hiding a small smile.

"My teacher suggested that I might enjoy it more than I think I will. So, I will come and entertain for a while."

"You teacher suggested it?"

"Yes, I told him that I haven't been able to have much free time, and he gave me the night off, since I had been doing so well," Christine smiled. She hardly ever lied, but she wasn't going to admit it was Erik's idea to calm Raoul down.

"I see," he replied with a slight grin. He offered his arm. "Then may I escort you?"

"Seeing as I have no idea where this party is taking place, I will graciously accept," Christine replied, threading her arm through his. Raoul brightened, and Christine wondered if he expected for her to turn him down. And while she did enjoy the company of her childhood friend, she wished that it was Erik who was taking her to such a fancy gala.

"I am honored," Raoul chuckled as she closed the door behind her.


	26. Chapter 26

Erik looked at the clock, seeing that the after party had only gone on for thirty minutes. He had anticipated to lose himself in his compositions until Christine came to find him, but he found that without his muse, there wasn't much he could add to his music. Putting the quill away, he thought and smiled to himself. It was never too late for a Phantom note from the Opera Ghost. He moved to his writing desk from the piano and pulled out his traditional stationary.

Once he dripped the wax and molded it into the customary red skull, he let the wax cool and harden. He wondered if the managers would even bat an eye, but he hadn't been paid since they had arrived. Not that Erik needed the money, but he needed the power it gave him over his clumsy managers. With a deep breath, he stood and grabbed his clever disguise on his way up.

Erik went through his secret tunnels until he reached the manager office, where he delicately placed the envelope on Monsieur Firmin's desk. While he knew that he needed both men's fear, Firmin was closer to Erik's goal than Andre was. The manager was terrified of him, and if Erik planned it out well, Andre would soon join suit.

After sneaking away from the office, he returned to the tunnels, searching for this accursed after celebration that the managers threw after each performance. It seemed that they were more successful than they had hoped, and they had high expectations. Soon, Erik found the gathering and creaked the panel enough for him to peer out but not enough to draw attention. He was surprised to find Christine near the edge of the party, sipping on some champagne. He wanted nothing more than to run in and accompany her, but he knew that it would be dangerous for both of them if he did that.

However, his blood boiled as the vicomte joined her against the wall. That fop had a sly smile on his face, as if he was plotting something. Christine seemed to be mildly interested in his conversation, but wasn't her usual bouncy self. Erik wondered if it was because of the boy, or if it was because of the large party happening around her. Secretly, he hoped that it was both reasons. He never liked large crowds either, and he found himself selfishly wishing Christine felt the same way.

After a few minutes of spying, Erik closed the panel silently, knowing that for now, Christine was safe. He would return to his home, hoping that she would find her way down after entertaining the terrible nobleman for a few more minutes. Especially after what he had told Madame Giry, Erik wanted to see what Christine was hoping for her future, and if it would match his desires.

* * *

Christine warded off Raoul once again as he was dragged away by another patron, hoping to put in a good word to the Changy family. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable in his presence, but she found him to be exhausting when he interrogated her about her singing and pastimes. Raoul seemed to be interested in what she did outside of the opera house, which to her wasn't much outside of Erik, and she wasn't about to talk about him to Raoul.

Luckily, Meg started distracting the vicomte while Christine grabbed a fifth flute of champagne. She had never had the pleasure of drinking before, but found that the champagne was sweet and tasty. Although, as she finished it, she wondered if that was such a good idea to drink so much. Christine found herself to be a little wobbly, which wasn't a good sign. Not sure what else to do, she left the party discreetly and wandered to her dressing room.

After hastily locking the door, Christine wandered to the mirror and used the mechanism. The glass slid away again and she stepped inside before closing the tunnel again. Making sure to stay clear of the trapdoor, she giggled down the long hallway, excited to see her angel once again. As she made her way down by the lake, she noticed that the boat was gone. Christine pouted as she sat on the steps.

"Erik?" she called out, waiting for a response. "Eeeeriiiiik?"

Christine giggled again at her loud whining, wondering if her angel could even hear her from so far away. She continued to call out for him between bouts of laughter. She even sang a few bars from a song Erik often used during her lessons, hoping to catch his attention.

* * *

Erik paused as he lifted the quill from the paper. He had been adding a few notes to his composition when he heard his name. He waited, and heard it again. It sounded like Christine was pleading for him to come to her, and then he heard her sweet laughter. Erik had just returned from seeing her at the gala, and he wondered if she had seen him through his hiding place. He was truly growing soft if that was the case.

However, he ran to the boat, still hearing his name being called out sweetly before a beautiful song flowed through the tunnels. He pushed the gondola along before seeing his very pretty angel sitting on the stairs, chuckling to herself. Erik raised an eyebrow, wondering what could be so funny.

"Christine?" he called out, noticing that she hadn't seen him come to shore. She looked at him, her eyes dazed as she looked surprised to see him. Then her features softened and reached out for him.

"My Erik," she smiled, trying to stand. She wobbled a little, and Erik steadied her. He could smell the champagne on her breath, and realized that there was more to her carefree behavior. "Oh, I'm fine, dear. I can walk on my own."

"At least let me help you to the boat," Erik coaxed, leading her away from the stairs. Christine sighed dramatically before laughing. He placed her on the floor of the boat, making sure that she couldn't topple in the water again in her state. "Christine, how are you feeling?"

"I'm great, _mon ange_. I feel a little lightheaded, but I feel great," she whispered, looking up at him with large brown eyes. Erik swallowed. His angel was drunk, and had come down in her stupor. However, it seemed that she was able to navigate the trapdoor without incident, which made him feel a little better.

Erik brought the boat back to his home before helping Christine to her feet. She faltered a little before finding her footing as he led her to the sofa by the wall. He knelt beside her as she stared at him, her eyes glazed over in a smile.

"How much did you drink, my dear?" Erik asked quietly as she giggled.

"Five glasses," she smiled as she held up four fingers. Erik held back a laugh as she giggled to herself, then putting up a fifth finger.

"Have you had alcohol before?"

"Nope! This was my first time."

"Ah, I see," Erik smiled before he stood, leaving her in the main area. He walked into his kitchen and grabbed her a glass of water. He returned to her side, urging her to drink the liquid.

"What's this?" Christine whispered, her eyebrow raised. Erik smiled, shaking his head.

"It's water, my angel. You need to drink it, or you'll be sick in the morning," Erik warned. Christine sighed before she downed the glass. "That's better."

"Are we going to sing tonight?"

"No, I think we'll wait for that until tomorrow. Although, I did want to ask you something," he whispered. He debated actually asking her, since she was intoxicated, but also thought he might get a straight answer from her in this state.

"What is it?"

"What do you want to do in the future?"

"Sing."

"I mean, do you see me in your future?"

"Of course, _mon ange_. You are my great teacher and my beau. I can't imagine a future without you in it," Christine reassured, grabbing each side of his face. "Do you see me in your future?"

"Of course, Christine," Erik added with a bright smile. "Would you even consider marrying me?"

"I would love nothing more, _mon ange_ ," Christine whispered, causing Erik's heart to melt in pure bliss. This wasn't his actual marriage proposal, but he wanted to see how she truly felt. "Although, I think we should wait on such things. We only started kissing a few days ago."

"Of course," he repeated, his smile widening.

"Does that mean I can stay here tonight?" Christine mused, reaching down for his hands. Erik laughed and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. I'm sure that vicomte of yours is looking nearly everywhere for you," he teased. However, her eyes darkened as she pouted.

"He's not my anything, Erik! I wish you would stop insisting on calling him that. What if he overheard you? What would we do then?" Christine lamented, shaking her head. Erik nodded, pursing his lips. The idea of Raoul overhearing them made him laugh, as if he would allow something like that to happen.

"I'm sure we won't have to find out, my sweet. Should I escort you to your dormitory?" Erik suggested. Christine exhaled and flopped back on the sofa with a pout.

"I don't want to go back, Erik. To hell with Raoul! I don't care if he searches all of France for me, I want to stay here with you," Christine complained. Erik clenched his jaw in thought, as he was at an impasse.

"What would Madame Giry say?"

"I don't care what she'll say. As long as I'm back before rehearsals tomorrow, then she won't know."

"I think she'll figure that one out," Erik sighed, shaking his head. Christine grabbed his hand again, swinging it gently.

"I hate that I only can spend a few hours a day with you. I want to spend all my time with you."

"And I with you, my sweet Christine, but we can't. At least, not right now. Once the season's over, we may have a few days to spare."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise," Erik swore, brushing her cheek with the back of his finger. She sighed contently before allowing him to help her up. "Let's get you to bed so you can be ready for the day tomorrow."

"Fine," Christine complained as he led her through the mirror rather than back to the boat. With her inebriated, he needed to take her closer to her dormitory than her dressing room. Christine laced her fingers with his and laid his head against his upper arm, wanting to never let go again.


	27. Chapter 27

Firmin didn't know how long he stood in the doorway of his office, staring at the red skulled envelope on his desk. He just froze when he saw the parchment, unwilling to take the next step. He knew that they were overdue on the next Phantom letter, especially since they hadn't paid him a cent on the last two months.

Realizing that his colleague would arrive soon as well, Firmin slowly walked in and picked up the letter. He opened it slowly, as if it were his death sentence. With a deep breath, he read the horrid note.

 _Dear M. Firmin,_

 _I am writing to you since you seem to have the most common sense, and I will implore you to listen. You have not paid my salary, and have tried my patience with my casting suggestions. While I do thank you for keeping box five open for my use, I must say that I am at a loss._

 _You must adhere to my requests if you hope for the opera house to remain standing, or I fear something terrible might occur._

 _I will give you until tomorrow to pay my salary, or a disaster beyond your imagination will occur._

 _Your obedient servant,_

 _O.G._

Firmin sucked in a breath as he read through it. The tone surprised him, as it was more eloquently written, and gave some contentment than the previous one. However, the urgency of the threat held true, and made the manager rather nervous. He shook his head and hid the letter away. He was not about to fork over forty thousand francs to this madman, whoever he was.

Bringing him back to the present, the office door opened to reveal a rather worried vicomte. Firmin knew immediately what would cause the young man to be there at such an early hour. It seemed that Miss Daae was missing once again.

"What can I do for you, Vicomte?" Firmin graciously asked, remembering his manners.

"Have you seen Christine?" the young man wondered. Firmin pursed his lips at the name, and promptly shook his head.

"I have just arrived, and I am sure that she will be here for rehearsal again. Madame Giry would know her whereabouts more than I would," the manager replied, trying to keep his temper under control. If the vicomte was going to bother someone about the soprano, it might as well be someone who might actually know. "Why don't you go check with her, and then you can see for yourself."

"Good idea, thank you," Raoul replied before leaving again. Firmin rolled his eyes before he went back to his paperwork. Between the Phantom and the vicomte, the manager almost wondered if he should implore the young soprano to sing elsewhere. At least then, he might get some peace and quiet.

"Good morning," Andre called before entering their office. Firmin gave a polite smile before returning to his work. "I saw the vicomte walking out. Is he looking for Daae again?"

"How did you guess?" Firmin growled. However, before Andre could reply, Firmin handed him the ghost's note. "This appeared today."

"Of course it did," Andre spat, annoyed. He read over the paper before throwing on the desk. "Damn that phantom! Who does he think he is?"

"Any ideas about what to do?"

"We're not paying him!"

"I couldn't agree more," Firmin sighed.

"We shouldn't do anything. He has his damned box, he should be content! We don't owe him anything anyway."

"So we'll do nothing? What if he attacks Carlotta again?"

"Then we'll deal with the aftermath. We cannot let this ghost get in our heads any longer," Andre informed. "After the season is over, we will search those tunnels and see for ourselves. Until then, let's try to actually run the opera house."

"Fine," Firmin agreed before flipping through the folders on his desk. Andre nodded as he sat down, secretly perturbed by the Phantom's warnings.

* * *

Christine woke slowly, her head pounding. She had heard the other ballerinas telling her about hangovers, but she never thought she would experience one herself. It seemed that her need to get through the night included nearly drinking a bottle of champagne. Gently, she sat up, holding her head in both hands.

After a moment, Christine swung her legs over the edge of the bed as she wondered what had happened the previous night. She remembered needing to find Erik and wandering down the tunnels. She did indeed see Erik that night, and she groaned as she recalled her unladylike behavior. She remembered whining and flopping herself on the sofa. She covered her eyes, vowing to never again drink another drop of alcohol, since it made her act in such an embarrassing manner.

Then another memory popped into her head. Erik had asked her about what she saw in her future, and had indeed mentioned marriage. Her face turned red at the memory, as she recalled what she said. While it was true, she was shocked she had said that at all. Although, Christine was happy that he wanted her in his life just as much as she wanted him in hers.

Patting her blushing cheeks, Christine tried her best to get ready for the day. She felt dizzy as her headache raged on, but she couldn't be late. Madame Giry would be disappointed to find her surrogate daughter missing from rehearsal on the account of a hangover.

Just as Christine finished dressing and grabbed her brush from her vanity, there was a knock at the door. Silently cursing whoever it was for being louder than necessary, she answered it and was surprised to find a relieved Raoul.

"Thank God you're safe," he whispered before gathering her in his arms. Christine stiffened at the surprise embrace and gently pried him off.

"Of course I'm safe," she groaned, looking up at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You ran off last night, and I couldn't find you anywhere. Where did you go?"

"Oh, um, I went to the chapel to say a prayer for my father before heading to bed early," Christine lied with a shrug. "The party was a little much for me, I guess."

"Understandable. Still, I am relieved that you are safe," he replied.

"I'm glad, and if you'll excuse me, I still have to get ready for rehearsal," she reminded, slowly closing the door. Raoul held the door open and stared at her.

"I was wondering if you would like to go to supper tonight. It might be preferable to the after parties," he offered.

"Oh, Raoul, I can't. I have another singing lesson with my tutor. He was lenient to let me have last night off, but I can't imagine he would let me take two nights off."

"Why not? It's not as if he runs your life."

"While that may be true, he has helped me find my voice and helps to perfect it. I owe him at least a few hours of compliance to keep my voice in pristine condition. I can't afford to lose what I have now. My voice is all I have," Christine answered. In truth, she had been looking forward to spending time with her tutor, but she felt that Raoul wouldn't understand her feelings. Although, it seemed that her words touched home as he straightened his suit.

"Of course, please excuse my uncaring words. I thought that your tutor was forcing you to spend your evenings with him," Raoul explained. Christine grimaced and nodded.

"You are forgiven. Now please, I need to finish preparing. I will see you later," she informed before closing the door firmly. It was a moment or two before she heard Raoul retreat from her room. Sighing, she walked back to her vanity to finish brushing her hair.

* * *

Raoul walked away from Christine's room, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't accustomed to being pushed away in such a manner, and he found himself rather irritated at the encounter. Ever since he had arrived, he found that Christine was acting cold around him. She seemed so different since they had known each other along the coast.

The vicomte sighed, thinking that her tutor was the one that had changed her so radically. And, if he was correct, it seemed that the tutor was more than he claimed to be. If her tutor and the Phantom were indeed the same person, then Christine could be in more danger than she realized.

Then a plan popped in Raoul's mind. It would have to be calculated and thought out, of course. Raoul would also have to get the manager's on his side as well, which wouldn't be difficult. Even Raoul knew that money was the way to their hearts. In the end, Madame Giry would be the most challenging to convince, other than Christine, but he would at least try. He owed it to Christine to at least do that.

The vicomte slammed open the office door once again, surprising the two managers. He grinned and closed the door behind him.

"I have a plan, messieurs, and I would like to run it by you."


	28. Chapter 28

The next few days went smoothly as the season came to an end. Christine continued her lessons with Erik, and kept deflecting Raoul to her friend Meg. The managers ignored the Phantom's note, waiting for him to carry out the threat that hadn't come yet. However, their own plan was about to come into play, and Raoul grew more nervous each day

The day of the last performance came quicker than Christine expected, and she was excited to spend the time off with Erik and their music. Meg seemed skeptical, as Christine usually spent time with her and Madame Giry, but was also glad that Christine seemed happy. Just before the final show, Christine tapped on the glass of her mirror, hoping that Erik managed to appear on time instead of getting lost in his compositions.

"Erik?" Christine whispered before the glass slid away. She beamed as she saw the shining white mask staring back at her.

"Did you think I would be late?" he whispered as he stepped into her dressing room. She kissed his cheek and shook her head.

"It wouldn't have been the first time," she smiled. Erik shook his head, a slight smirk on his face. "Are you going to watch again tonight?"

"I wouldn't miss seeing you for the world," he reassured. "Are you packed for your extended lesson?"

"Of course, I have my bag upstairs. I'll get it before meeting you in here," Christine answered, giving her plan. "Are you sure you still want me to come stay for the offseason?"

"I would not have it any other way," Erik promised, basking in her grin. "Do you know what opera they plan on doing when the season begins again?"

"I've heard some rumors, but I'm sure they'll announce that tonight during the managers massive party," Christine sighed, shaking her head. She had promised herself never to attend such an event again.

"Then we will have to keep an eye out for that announcement. By the time you return to the opera house, you will be prepared to audition for the lead role," he informed. He wasn't about to have the managers to scoff at him again, and if he was to ensure this through Christine's voice, then so be it.

"This isn't meant to be a vacation, is it?" she laughed.

"Vacation? I suppose we could afford some relaxation, my dear," he shrugged. He truly couldn't deny her anything, especially if it meant spending quality time with her.

"That sounds wonderful," she sighed. She had been working so hard these past few weeks, a break was exactly what she needed.

"Then we shall do both, then. Although, I will not allow your voice to wane during this time," he warned, causing her to laugh. While he wasn't sure what was funny about the statement, he appreciated her heavenly laughter.

"Of course," she chuckled. "I would never abandon it."

"I would hope not," Erik mentioned before they heard a knock at the door. It was time for Christine to head to the stage. Erik gave her a gentle kiss before she ran off.

"Aren't you going to wish me good luck?"

"Christine, you don't need luck," he smiled, referring to her talent. Christine laughed before she disappeared through the door. Erik shook his head before he retreated back into the mirror.

* * *

As expected, the last performance was a success, and the audience demanded an encore. Raoul carefully ducked out during the applause and standing ovations. For his plan to work, he needed to intercept Christine before she had the chance to see her tutor.

He waited backstage as the dancers and chorus swarmed passed him. The managers had promised quite an after party, giving the perfect distraction for the vicomte's plan. Soon, Christine came off and he intercepted her easily.

"Christine!" he called as she walked towards him. Puzzled, she wandered over. His voice gave some urgency, something she hadn't heard before in his voice.

"Raoul? What's wrong?" she replied, instantly worried. Raoul sighed and shook his head.

"I just received word that my father has fallen ill, and the doctor isn't sure if he'll make it through the night," he answered, hanging his head. Christine gasped, and touched his arm.

"Oh, Raoul, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?" she wondered. Raoul thanked the heavens that her heart still held such compassion.

"Would you come with me to see him? I don't think I could see him alone," he whispered. Christine hesitated, wondering what she could do.

"Of course, Raoul, let me go change," she informed, trying to walk passed him. However, he grabbed her arm and shook his head.

"No, we should see him now. We don't know how long he has."

"How long has he been ill?"

"He told no one when he fell ill, but the doctor believes he has been sick for days," Raoul informed before taking a deep breath. "I've spent so much time here, I had no idea."

"Alright, then let's go, but I must write a note to my tutor informing him that I'll be late," Christine pressed. Raoul nodded, realizing that she would become suspicious if he denied her that. She ran again to her dressing room, jotting down a quick message:

 _Raoul's father is very sick, and Raoul asked me to go with him for support. I should be back within two hours._

 _-Christine_

Christine found Raoul outside her dressing room, and he quickly escorted her to the carriage waiting outside. Christine sensed his urgency, and was mildly concerned as he practically pushed her into the cab. Within seconds of sitting down, the carriage lurched forward, leaving the opera house behind.

As they approached Raoul's home, she was shocked to find the mansion before her. Of course she knew he was a vicomte, but she was unprepared for the massive size of the building. She gaped, temporarily forgetting the reason for her coming here. However, Raoul beamed with pride at her reaction to his home.

"Quickly," he instructed as he jumped from the halted carriage. Raoul held a hand out for Christine to use as she came out of it as well. Christine glanced at him, feeling as if something was off. His urgency had calmed, but she wondered if it was because they had simply arrived. Surely his father wasn't going to pass in the next few minutes.

Without releasing her hand, Raoul ran into the mansion. A well-dressed man opened the door and greeted them, surprised to see Christine in tow. She wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion, as she still had her costume and stage makeup on. Embarrassed, she lowered her head as Raoul brought her upstairs.

Raoul came to a bedroom and went in. Christine let herself get dragged in, but was confused when the room was completely dark. Then, his hand disappeared from her grasp.

"Raoul?" she called out before she turned around. Even with the dull light from the hallway, she could see anything in the room.

"I'm sorry," Raoul whispered before the door slammed shut. Christine ran the door, only to find it locked from the outside. Confused and panicked, she shook the doorknob and pounded on the door.

"Raoul? What is going on? Let me out of here?" Christine pleaded and shouted. However, there was no response.

Christine backed away from the door in search of matches. She felt her way through the dark, finding a bedpost. Hesitantly, she felt around the mattress, finding it pleasantly empty. For a moment, she had wondered if Raoul had locked her in with his dying father. Soon, she found the nightstand and the drawer that contained the fire starters.

With a quick flick, she used the light to find some candles or even a fire place. Luckily, there was a candelabra near the corner of the room. Christine lit the candles, bringing light back into her life, and she exhaled. At least she could now see. It was a nicely furnished room, but was plain enough to be considered a guest room.

Again, she tried the door, but it was still locked. Groaning and whispering explicatives she had learned from the stagehands, she wandered through her new room. There were two more doors, which only lead to a bathroom and a small empty closet. Christine glanced at the window, wondering if she could make her escape through there, but remembered that she was on the second floor. That way only led to broken legs and sprained ankles.

With a resigned groan, she carefully removed her costume down to her chemise. It was getting late, and she wondered how long she would be in this room. Probably long enough to get some rest, as she doubted that she would be able to return when she had planned. At the very least, she was comforted by the idea that Erik knew where she was. At least someone knew.

After removing the last of her makeup, Christine pulled back the covers of the bed and slipped underneath them. She didn't put out the candles, afraid of the dark in a strange place. She reclined against the pillow, hoping that she would be returned to the opera house as quickly as possible.


	29. Chapter 29

Erik arrived behind the mirror in the dressing room, curious to find it dark. He had given Christine a few minutes to gather her things, but she wasn't waiting for him. Instead, the room was exactly as they had left it nearly two hours before. All except for the white note on the vanity. Carefully, he left the mirror, checking to see if the door was locked, before taking the note.

He read it twice, surprised by the change in plans and the fact that Raoul was at the center of them. Christine had sworn that there was nothing but friendship between them, and Erik knew this to be true. However, he found it odd that Raoul would whisk her away just as the final performance had finished. With a groan, he quickly unlocked the door and disappeared behind the mirror again.

If Christine did not return in two hours, then Erik would find her, wherever she was.

* * *

Raoul quickly returned to the opera house, trying to keep Christine's shouts from his mind. It tore him in half to think about the way he treated her, but he needed her safe. He needed her far away from their search of the tunnels underneath. If it was true that the Phantom was her tutor, then it would be safer for Christine to remain away.

To his relief, the managers waited outside while the party raged within the Populaire. Raoul jumped from the carriage and ran up the steps toward them.

"Is everything ready?" the vicomte asked breathily.

"We believe so. Is Miss Daae safe?" Firmin replied as Raoul nodded.

"Good, then we can proceed," Andre groaned, leading the rest back into the opera house. They went to the dressing room, where a few stagehands stood at the ready.

"Alright, so how do we get down?" Firmin wondered. Raoul smirked as he reached around the mirror. It took a moment, but soon the mirror slid away. Just as he suspected.

"Through here," Raoul urged as Andre nodded. The manager seemed relieved to know that the search wasn't in vain. Andre walked in first with two stagehands as Raoul and Firmin followed the rear, leaving the last stagehand in the room to keep watch.

Raoul felt a sting of triumph just before he heard two distinct surprised yelps and a soft crash. The vicomte pushed passed the stagehand to find Andre and the second man down a deep hole just before the trapdoor reset. Andre shouted a cuss word as Raoul glanced around.

"What the hell was that?!" Firmin shouted after coming back from his initial shock.

"It seems that the Phantom was waiting for us," Raoul hissed, hitting the trap door. However, they noticed that it didn't reset. Andre and one of the stagehands were truly trapped. "He should continue. We can come back for them later."

"Vicomte, I think we might be over our heads," Firmin informed, fear trickling in his voice.

"We must continue. I must see that it is safe," Raoul answered, pressing forward as he watched his footing. Firmin glanced behind him, seeing the dressing room, but sighed. If something happened to the vicomte and he wasn't there, he could be blamed.

Raoul went down the steps with the remaining stagehand and Firmin on his heels. They were surprised when they didn't trigger another trap, but Raoul decided not to look the gift horse in the mouth. However, what he didn't realize was that they had indeed set off a silent trap. A loose wire that rang a bell, alerting the Phantom of their presence.

* * *

Erik jumped to action when the bell sounded near his organ. He dowsed the candles and grabbed his cloak, prepared for a fight. He had guessed that someone would eventually venture down, but he never expected it would be now. Erik was just glad that Christine was delayed and wasn't burdened by his task.

What Erik saw, though, confused him. To find the vicomte with the mustached manager and a stagehand was shocking. If the nobleman was here, then where was Christine? Erik's blood ran cold at the thought. Christine was supposed to be with this man, but she wasn't. It now occurred to him that the note may not have been hers either. Enraged, Erik hid in the shadows, waiting for the fools who dared interfere with his life. However, his home wasn't what he wanted to protect, it was Christine. She was the one who was missing, and he was going to find her.

Erik dashed through an unused passage that led to the stables above, taking a horse and surprising a local stable boy. Erik led the horse to him, hardly caring that moment that he had been seen.

"Where is the Changy home?" Erik growled. The stable boy jolted to attention before pointing and giving vague directions. Erik nodded before bolting in that direction, casting a small bag of coins at the boy's feet.

Erik tore through the Paris streets with few onlookers paying any attention. He nearly caused a carriage crash once or twice, but double checked to find that there was no damage done. Soon, he saw the estate the boy described come into view.

* * *

Christine laid beneath the covers for what seemed like hours as she wondered why she was there. She wondered where Raoul disappeared to, why no one came to her cries, and she wondered if she would ever see the opera house again. She knew that Raoul had feelings, but Christine never would have guessed that he would stoop to deception to try to win her over.

Anger swelled within her as she bit her tongue, holding back the tears. While she knew she was more or less safe, but her heart yearned for Erik. She wanted nothing more than Erik to unlock the door and set her free. Although, she would give nearly anything to be let out of this prison.

She threw open off her covers and went to the window, wanting another look at the world below. While she was on the second floor, maybe she could jump down with minimal damage. However, her hopes were dashed as she looked down. It was nearly twenty feet to the ground, and she wouldn't make it far without at least spraining her ankles.

In a desperate attempt to escape, Christine began to tie together the sheets and blankets that had been provided. She carefully tested each knot the best she could, then tied one of the end to the bed post. It was heavy enough, and Christine prayed that it wouldn't move too much on her way down.

Giving a few tugs, she opened the window as quietly as she could. It wouldn't help if there were servants waiting to keep her inside. With the window open and her makeshift rope, Christine sat on the edge. Tossing the sheet rope down, she saw that it nearly touched the ground, which was good enough for her. Carefully, she slipped out and clutched the sheets, lowering herself down. The bed creaked, causing her to flinch.

With a few slips and slight movements from the bed, Christine carefully climbed down. Only when she felt the grass between her toes did she let go of her rope. She yelped in surprise when she turned around and found a man standing close to her.

"Miss Daae, you should have stayed in your room."


	30. Chapter 30

Christine turned around to see a distraught butler, and she felt a slight relief. While this man seemed interested in locking her up again, at least she didn't have to confront Raoul. The butler glanced at the sheet rope, seeming to be mildly impressed.

"Please don't put me back in that room. Tell me what's going on? Where's Raoul's father? Is he okay?" Christine asked, stepping toward him.

"What? Master Changy is in his winter home in Vienna, and I am sure he's in good health. Were you told otherwise?"

"Raoul told me that he was dying, and that he needed me to go with him. What's going on? Where is Raoul, then?"

"I believe Master Raoul has returned to the opera house. He mentioned that he was going to end something once and for all in a tunnel. I wasn't sure what he was saying," the butler explained. Christine's eyes widened at the mention of the tunnels. Erik could be in danger. Without hesitation, she pushed past the butler and ran down the street.

Christine could hear the shouts from the man as well as his own footfalls, but she quickly outpaced him. Her years of ballet made her quick and light on her feet. She bounded down the road towards the city ahead. She didn't know the Paris streets extremely well, but she could vaguely recall where the carriage had traveled a few hours before.

However, while she had a good amount of endurance, Christine couldn't run forever. She slowed down to a quick walk, but urgency kept her going. She nearly stopped in her tracks when she saw a large figure galloping down the road, but she kept her head down as she continued. However, the figure nearly passed her as he yanked the reins back.

"Christine?" the figure asked as she turned to him. Christine nearly squealed in relief when she saw Erik's white mask above her.

"Erik!" she shouted as she started toward him. Erik jumped down from the horse before enveloping her in his arms. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Christine," he whispered, pressing his face in her curly hair. "I'm glad you're safe, but what are you doing out hear all by yourself?"

"Raoul locked me in a room and then left. I didn't know what to do, so I escaped. Although, I'm sure the butler is trying to find me now," Christine sighed, looking up at him.

"Then we should get you home before anyone else interferes."

"What are you going to do? I heard that Raoul is searching your tunnels. You can't go back there now, or you could be caught."

"Yes, that could be detrimental, but you can't stay out here."

"But I can't return to the opera house now. What if Raoul drags me back?"

"Good point. That wouldn't be ideal," he grumbled and shook his head. "I have no place but the tunnels, but I will not have you be sleeping on the streets."

"I know Madame Giry has a cottage for the off season. I've spent some time there."

"Is she there now?"

"No, I don't think she'll there until tomorrow," Christine answered with a shrug. "Do you think we should stay there for now?"

"I think that would be the safest option," Erik nodded. He quickly mouthed his horse before offering his hand to help her up.

Once settled, Christine directed him to the best of her ability to the Giry home. She wondered if the ballet instructor and her daughter would head to their house earlier than usual, but figured that they would understand considering the circumstances. Technically, Raoul had kidnapped her, and that would give her cause to find a place to stay outside of the opera house. Christine grew worried if he would try it again if he had the chance.

After a few backtracks and alley shortcuts, they were able to find the small cottage on the edge of the city. Erik smiled as he saw the modest abode as he dismounted and led the horse to the back of the home. Christine stayed atop the horse, gripping the saddle for dear life.

"Ready to come down?" Erik asked, holding his hands up towards her. She nodded and slid down onto the ground again.

"Do you know how to get in?" Christine wondered as he smirked.

"I have a bad habit of being able to get into things people don't want me in," he answered with a light laugh. Christine watched as Erik walked to the back door and started to pick the lock.

"Doesn't seem like a terrible habit right now," Christine smiled. Erik chuckled and shook his head as the door swung free.

"After you," he whispered as Christine walked in. It was dark and cold, but Christine still felt a sense of welcome when she entered. Erik closed the door behind him and went to the fireplace. While spring was starting to show itself, the night still brought the bitter cold.

"What are we going to do now?" she whispered. Erik glanced back at her. "I mean, I can probably return to the opera house when the season starts again, but what about you? Where are you going to go?"

"I'm not sure. I might be able to return to my home in time, but it might be beyond repair if the Vicomte decided to trash it. If that's the case, then I am sure I'll find some suitable accommodations," Erik reassured, standing from the growing fire. Christine nodded as he came close. "I might even buy a house and live as a normal man."

"Sounds exciting," she laughed. "Would we continue our lessons there?"

"We could have lessons anywhere you wanted," Erik informed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Christine grinned up at him.

"That's good to know," she sighed. "Although, I'm not sure how long we can stay here. Madame Giry and Meg will probably be here tomorrow."

"That's fine. I'll leave in the morning and go back to the opera house. I'll inform Antoinette about our situation and then check on my home. Then we can make a plan from there," Erik suggested. Christine bit her lip, but nodded.

"What if they're still down there?"

"You're talking to the infamous opera ghost. They won't see me," he reassured.

"Alright," Christine sighed. She didn't like the idea of going underground to possibly face the man that kidnapped her, especially with the managers and stagehands down there as well. "But be careful. I need you come back."

"Christine, I doubt that you need me," Erik smiled, lightly teasing her. Christine returned his comment with a glare.

"How can you say that? Where would I be if you didn't come back?"

"You would still be the phenomenal opera soprano that you are. Besides, you still have the Giry's. You are not as alone in this world as you think you are."

"Neither are you," Christine retorted. Erik's smile dropped, surprised to hear such a thing. "Would you really get a house? With a fence and everything?"

"Do you want me to get a house?" Erik chuckled, smiling through the tears gathering in his eyes.

"I want you to do what you want. Although the idea of you having a proper house seems a little silly," Christine remarked.

"It does a little, but that's not a bad thing. Maybe you could actually tell people who your voice instructor is."

"That would be easier."

"I'm sensing a 'but' in there."

"I could also tell people that I am being courted by you. It might cause Raoul to back off," Christine whispered, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Erik gave a soft smile, touched that she would think that as well. "But you don't have to. I know that you value your privacy more than anything."

"While I do value my privacy, maybe having a place above ground wouldn't be so bad," Erik theorized quietly. "We'll see, I suppose."

"Thank you," Christine smiled.

"But now, I think you should get some sleep. You've been through a lot, and it's pretty late as it is."

"I'm not a child anymore."

"No, you certainly are not, but you are still my student. Proper rest is essential," Erik whispered before kissing her forehead. Christine stared at him before groaning.

"Fine, but don't disappear tomorrow. I want to see you off, even if it means you have to wake me," Christine warned, pointing her forefinger at him. Erik have a half smile and nodded.

"You have my word," he whispered. Christine nodded before heading off to the spare room.

Erik watched as she disappeared around the corner before he sat in front of the fire. His heart was still filled with rage at the thought of Christine trapped. Now that she was safe, Erik wanted nothing more than to beat the pompous boy for doing something so inhuman.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that Christine was in the other room. While he wanted to take his anger out on the objects around him, he stayed his hand. It would only make him feel guilty for destroying Antoinette's home and make Christine feel unsafe. That was the last thing he wanted her to feel.

Erik thought of the moment he saw Christine on the road, where he had found her safe. He remembered the relief that flooded his heart and the joy of seeing her in front of him. He focused on her words of caring and trust she had spoken moments before. He would control his anger and his rage for Christine.


End file.
